


Blackened Hearts

by Shadow12177



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Assassination, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Espionage, F/M, Hate Sex, Horror, Manipulation, Psychological Horror, Revenge, Rough Sex, Subterfuge, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 04:12:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15502062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow12177/pseuds/Shadow12177
Summary: Raven has taken it upon herself to eliminate Umbrella Corporation for Revenge. As an assassin she has no qualms with killing EVERYONE and ANYONE that gets in her way. She is sucked into a world of double agents, betrayal and subterfuge when she becomes mixed up with non other than Albert Wesker himself. Now locked into a battle of wills, Raven must keep her wits about her in order to remain on her crusade to kill Oswald E. Spenser. All the while remaining one step ahead from Wesker and his plans. I wouldn't exactly call this a Romance... But these two will stop at nothing to get what they want.





	1. First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> This is set post Raccoon City but pre Las Plagas incident for now. I apologise in advance if anyone is out of character (namely Wesker!) and I hope you all enjoy the story. There will be lemons in this so consider yourself warned ;)  
> Disclaimer: I do NOT own Resident Evil (just my girl Raven and this story) so any and all kudos goes to Capcom!

 

_Raven's p.o.v_

 

The chilly New York air did little to dampen the sense of unease for the group currently emerging from the Prometheus business complex, a front for Umbrella no less. They were all dressed in black professional looking suits with white shirts, making them look more like the secret service with their stoic expressions instead of independent mercenaries. One however, stood out from the rest of them. He was a good foot taller, broad shouldered, blonde, dressed head to toe in black and wore sunglasses… despite it being the late hours of the night. He barked orders to the men around him, scarring the crap out of the less seasoned of the bunch while he scanned the area, looking for trouble of any kind.

The stiff, statue like body guards stepped aside to make way for the elder bound to his mobile trap. The motorised hum of his wheelchair was easily drowned out by the never ended roars and beeps of impatient drivers, drowning out the groaning protests of his well-used device as he stopped by the curb. One could see he both despised and needed his prison of wheels and gears thanks to his withered legs only visible to those who have an eye for such details. His impeccable designer suit would hide that fact from most people.

Raven is not like most people.

She remained hidden, perched in her Eagles nest while staring down the scope of her M2010 Enhanced Sniper Rifle, complete with a silencer. Her clothing made her blend with the scenery, dressed in a black skin like combat suit with interwoven kevlar webbing. Two handguns sat neatly on her hips with two Katana’s strapped to her back. The mask she wore protected her identity but boy was it hot under there! Now, one could be forgiven for thinking that she was a female Deadpool but she’d shoot you in the face if you ever brought that up. So don’t do it.

Raven was close enough to jump into the action when the time was right but she needed the distance in case something went wrong. The woman obscured in shadows adjusted her grip on the rifle while she wriggled her flattened body on the rooftop of the adjacent building, making sure she was ready for her shot. The night visioned image allowed her to see with clarity as another businessman emerged from the back of the group, walking to stand beside the crippled body of one of the richest men in the world. He grinned the greedy ‘pleasure-doing-business-with-you’ grin as he shook the old man’s hand, his lips moved to say the words aloud.

Suddenly his jaw exploded, leaving the words unspoken as his eyes widened in shock and pain. His body crumbled to the floor as the guards leapt into action, training their guns in the direction of the shot… most of them aimed wide. It wasn’t until the squelch of flesh from another bullet reaching its target in what is now the mangled head of the businessman, confirming the kill as it were, did they fire back at her. Raven ducked to dodge the ricocheting bullets, adjusting her rifle to automatic before jumping up to return fire. A hail of bullets flew from her modified gun, forcing the group… and everyone else in the street to take cover while she dropped into the alley way below her.

She had fastened her rifle to the small of her back and used her goggles to see the tall blonde yanking the old man out of his wheel chair just as a speeding car pulled up to the curb. Raven hissed under her breath “No! You won’t get away from me Spencer!” And charged out of the alley with her twin Desert Eagles in hand.

Shots fired out from her hand cannons, hitting two of the guards’ dead centre before having to jump onto the bonnet of a yellow taxi that almost ran her down. In a display of some serious ninja skills, she jumped off said bonnet and flipped while shooting the brains out of a third guard and landed with the perfect defensive role, barely dodging a few bullets while she was at it. The darkly dressed assassin trained both of her guns at the black Mercedes that sped off. In pure frustration, she shot the sides as it past her, ensuring to hit the glass where Spencer’s face should have been as the vehicle screamed past her, taking her prize out of her reach… and making her waste all of her bullets.

 **“Dammit!”** Her anger was short lived as a blur of black suddenly slammed into her face, sending her flying into a nearby abandoned car. The window shattered on impact as her body was slammed into the driver’s door, wracking her entire body with pain before it even registered she had hit the ground. Raven barely rolled out of the way as an incoming kick booted said car a few feet away, leaving an odd skid mark on the bitumen. She got on her feet and whipped out her sword, slashing horizontally in front of her, forcing her assailant to lean back and dodge it. She hacked again, seeing it was the tall blonde with sunglasses that was giving her so much trouble. Again he dodged the attack, moving like liquid but she was determined to make him pay for getting in her way.

Raven growled as she began a deadly dance with the man, slashing and hacking away, delivering the occasional shin or roundhouse kick to get some breathing space whenever he got too close. It was like fighting air. The audacious bastard had a smirk permanently etched on his features, like he wasn’t even trying, just playing with her and that pissed her off. Suddenly he moved faster than her eyes could follow and kicked her blade as she brought it down in a vertical sweep, breaking a third of the blade clean off into the air above them. He caught said blade in his gloved hand and stabbed her in her thigh, causing Raven to scream out painfully as he twisted the invasive metal. He backhanded her as though he were swatting a fly out of his face and knocked her to the ground.

Raven tried to regain her senses long enough to remove the blade still stuck in her leg but her shoulder was kicked back into the ground by her opponent, then he stomped on her chest, breaking three of her ribs in the process. A strangled screamed escaped her bloodied lips, currently soaking her mask and trickling down her throat as the smirking menace stooped down to grab her by her neck. He slowly dragged her a few paces, deliberately over shards of broken glass before lifting her wheezing body to his eyelevel, making her feet dangle a few inches off the ground. She held onto his wrist with a weakened grip as unconsciousness threatened to take her down.

 

The man snarled cruelly into her face with a smooth mocking purr. “Did you think you could kill someone like Lord Spencer and live to tell the tale?”

Raven struggled to speak until she got strangled breath in and chuckled “I never really did think things through…” Her head lopped to the side as she released her grip on his wrist, holding up her hand to show a ring with a grenade pin hanging around her middle finger. “Luck on the other hand, I have in abundance.”

 

The man looked down to see a cylindrical grenade had been attached to his belt while he’d been choking the would be assassin. Within a second of its discovery it exploded in a bright flash of white and a deafening sound. This blinded his seemingly sensitive eyes and deafened his sharp ears, causing him to drop Raven as he stepped back in agony, trying to shield himself from the assault on his senses. Raven took the opportunity the rip the blade out of her leg and limp away from the battle zone, she was not blinded by the flash bang grenade since she shut her eyes in time and really didn’t care about hearing bells ringing all night. The world was mute as she forced her mangled body to cooperate long enough to reach the next building over.

She used the grappling gun she kept strapped to her thigh (not the one that just got stabbed) at all times and fired it at the rooftop. Raven allowed the device to pull her out of harms way and once she was on said roof, she began the very long and painful trip home.

 

_Wesker’s p.o.v_

 

 

Wesker growled at the ever annoying sound of a ruptured eardrum screaming away inside his mind, causing the headache to intensify from the exposure of far too much light for his reptilian eyes. The protigenitor virus was already repairing the minor damage but by the time his senses had returned to him, the assassin was gone. The blade tip he had used as a make shift knife sat in a pool of blood that trickled towards a nearby building and stopped completely. The trail was already cold. Despite being an obvious amateur, the girl was at least smart enough to plan her escape route.

He squatted down to examine the blade and took note of its high density steel. He lowered his glasses just enough to utilized his heightened sight to spot the unique ribbons of the blade. A potential lead. “If this is a custom made blade, then there is a high chance of finding you my dear.” He mused aloud in his cool collected tone.

He stood and took note of his surroundings, all of the other body guards were dead. There were several witnesses still routed to the spot in terror, too weak and pathetic to run to safety. His disgust for the human race only seemed to grow every day since his rebirth and he held no remorse for whenever he slayed innocent bystanders. Today was no exception. Secrecy held the utmost importance to Umbrella and her affiliates and there was no room for human sentiment. Within a blur of movement their throats had been slashed and was now removing the identification of the more than useless mercenaries assigned to protect Spencer. His musings were cut short when his phone began to ring.

 

He began walking away from the scene of carnage with the assassin’s blade in hand and flipped his phone open against his ear. “Wesker.”

“What the hell was that all about!?” Demanded Spencer on the other side of the line, clearly pissed off with the attempt on his feeble life.

Wesker couldn’t help but smirk as he barely kept the sarcasm out of his voice. “I would say that was a botched assassination attempt on your behalf sir.”

“I want to know who dared to try and strike me down. Get me the identity of this assassin and whoever hired them, all their affiliates and I want them dead!” A particularly chesty coughing fit followed the old man’s raging fit, causing him to gasp for his precious air.

Wesker rolled his eyes at his orders for he thought they were quite obvious and unnecessarily voiced. “Try not to excite yourself sir, it will be done.”

“Good” with a click the line went dead.

 

_Raven’s p.o.v_

 

It took hours for her to get back to her apartment thanks to being unable to breathe and the huge gaping wound in her leg but Raven refused to give up. So she made it back home. Barely. She didn’t care about the blood trail she left on the roof and didn’t dare to remove her suit until she was indoors. If anyone knew who she was, it was over… So it’s best not to walk in through the front door, dressed like a ninja and bleeding like a stuck pig. Thankfully, she kept a key for the roof access point tucked safely away in one of the million pockets she had on her and slowly made her way inside. When she finally wondered down the hallway that lead to her apartment she was dressed in a simple white singlet and boy shorts, carrying her combat suit and weapons bundled under her arm as she passed her blissfully ignorant neighbours.

She was careful not to make too much noise but only one of them would be nosey enough to investigate. Big Mama. She was a nice enough lady, a little on the heavy side but was probably too much of a stickybeak for her own good. Raven leaned against the doorway for room 13B and suppressed the urge to moan as she fidgeted with her keys, trying to find the one for her apartment door. Eventually the correct key met the lock and opened her sanctuary currently obscured by darkness. Raven limped inside and gently shut the door, locking it before flicking on the lights. She dumped her gear on the breakfast table and moved towards her pantry to grab a jar of honey, pouring it into a saucepan and left it on the stove to boil.

Raven limped her way through her cramped apartment, squeezing past her weapon racks, work benches and her intelligence centre until she reached her bathroom. The white asylum walls did little to lift her mood as she flipped on the lights and stared at her own reflection. Her face was already bruised and swollen from where Terminator mistook her for a punching bag. She winced as she gingerly touched her nose, causing dried blood to flake into the sink. With a sigh she turned the faucets and made the water warm before proceeding to clean up what was once her face. After a few dabs and splashes she could see her pale features once more. Her dark brown hair clung around her brows and cheeks, making her look quite ill from the pain and blood loss.

Her dark brown eyes stared coldly if not slightly accusingly at her battered face, betraying her disappointment in losing her primary target. She never bothered with makeup, always felt it took way too much time to put on and even longer to get it off, especially when it became smudged with blood and sweat. As a result, her face was already clean. There was nothing she could do for the swelling… accept put ice on it. With a heavy sigh she turned off the taps and made her way back to the kitchen, switching on her radio as she walked past it. The news reported an incident happened downtown but it didn’t go into any details. What did catch her attention as she grabbed the now boiling pot of honey and her first aid kit, was the mention of civilian casualties.

 

_‘Huh… pretty sure I didn’t shoot a civilian… Bah… their own damn fault for not getting out of the way.’_

 

 

With a shake of her head at the idiocy of some people, she made her way to her ‘intelligence centre’. It was series of computers with five monitors ready for action at all times. It was state of the art and took quite a while to steal what she needed for this set up. A comfortable leather office chair almost beckoned her to take a seat but before she did, Raven stared at the hierarchy of photographs on her bulletin board. These where her personal hits. She doesn’t normally get paid for these unless she worked for Tricell or Omni pharmaceuticals. Raven couldn’t help but stare at the pinnacle of her hierarchy. Spencer. The one that got away. Many had already been crossed off her list and many more had been added since she started.

 

“Hmm that reminds me…” She mused aloud as she took a seat and fired up her computers. “Who was the tall blonde that kicked my ass today?”

 

Raven opened up her files to sort through all the information she had managed to gather over the last two years from the number of corporations she had worked for. They were more than happy to give her whatever they had on their rival, completely ignorant to the notes she had been taking on them as well. The battered woman slowly cleaned the deep still bleeding cut in her leg as she flipped through the files, reading for any mention for a guy who can move faster than lightning and punch harder than hell, wearing sunglasses to boot. She carefully poured some super-heated honey into her wound and growled out the burn, knowing damn well if she screamed, big mama would call the superintendent again and break the freaken door down.

Her body shivered as the substance cauterised the wound, stopping the blood flow at last. Raven grimaced as she placed gauze against the entry point and began binding her wound. She nearly dropped the bandage when one of her monitors flashed an old line up photo of Umbrella’s scientists from the Arklay mountain branch. There on the right hand side of the white coated researchers was the tall blonde. He was the only one that wasn’t smiling… and seemed to have those glasses super glued to his face.

 

Raven leaned forward to read the names of the scientists, mumbling slightly as she did. “… William Birkin… Albert Wesker. Huh. So that’s your name. How did a scientist learn how to fight like that?”

She leaned back and damn near jumped out of her seat when her phone rang. With an agitated growl, Raven picked up her mobile currently dancing on her desk. “… Raven.”

“Congratulations on a job well done, though I do believe you were a little excessive with the collateral…” cooed her contact. His voice was far too cheerful to be truly disappointed. “The money has been transferred as usual, with a little bonus for blowing off Mr. William’s jaw.”

“It was my pleasure and thank you for your prompt payment. I do admire efficiency in a man.”

“You flatter me, though had I known you were so… ruthless, I would have sent you after a more particular target of mine.” He of course was referring to the civilians.

“I’ll have you know that was not my doing.” She replied coldly, sounding disinterested and unaffected by the news.

Her contact did not bother to mask his surprise but it also felt forced to her ears. “Oh? Then who did?”

“Someone named Albert Wesker.” She paused to allow him to absorb the information. “Who is he?”

There was a pause before he replied. “How do you know that name?”

“I have my ways, now answer the question.” Although he did kind of give her an answer.

“Are you sure it was him?” He sounded nervous.

“He was the only one left standing.” The agitation grew in her voice and Raven did not bother to hide it.

“Shit…” There was a pause until he cleared his throat. “He’s Umbrella Intelligence. Basically a spy with one hell of a brain. Just assume he knows everything before you do. He’s cunning, ruthless and is often seen with Spencer, the targets meet for tonight.”

Raven’s brow twitched as her ordinarily cold demeanour shifted towards volatile rage. “And you did not think that piece of information was relevant for tonight’s hit!?”  
“Hey! I didn’t know he was going to be there I swear!”

“Yeah right.” She scoffed and returned to her usual cold voice. “More like you were hoping I’d complete the hit and he’d take me out so you wouldn’t have to pay the bill.”  
“Now you’re just being paranoid I-“

“Do you remember what I told you when you first made contact with me? I need full disclosure with any information regarding a hit. Failure to do so will result in termination in any and all contacts. Do not call me again.”

 

With that she switched off her phone, popped out the battery then popped out the sim card. She bent the piece of plastic back and forth until it snapped right through its circuit board, making it impossible for use or to be tracked by anyone. Raven stared at the image of Albert Wesker, studying his features closely, committing him to memory so she could further her research on him. If she was going to get to Spencer, she needed to get past him first.

 

Her staring match with the inanimate image was interrupted by a gasping whisper. “Oh my God!”

Raven turned in her chair to see the heavy set woman who lived across the hall from her, staring in shock at her impressive arsenal of death and destruction. Her mouth opened and closed like a gaping cat fish, her curly red hair was more of a mess than usual and it seemed to become frizzier as her fear grew. Raven’s hand reached beneath her desk for her hidden berretta, pulling it from its holster and flipping the safety off with a quiet ‘click’.

She regarded the frightened woman who was at a loss for words for once, weighing up her options. “How’d you get in here Evey?”

Said woman snapped her head at Raven’s direction and took a step back, holding up a ring of keys in her hand. “I… I-I borrowed Harvey’s keys…” The superintendent’s keys.

Raven stood and balanced most of her weight on her good leg, hiding the gun behind her back. “And what inspired you to come inside my home Evey?”

“W-well when I came home I… I uh saw blood in the hallway… and it lead to your door. I-I was worried you were hurt so I came to check on you…” She kept walking backwards as Raven slowly stalked her. Her eyes darting everywhere, taking in far too much information.

“Oh big mama…” Raven sighed disappointedly, aiming her gun at Evey’s head and pulled the trigger before she had time to scream. “You should have knocked first.”  
The silencer made the shot sound like a gentle hiss, keeping any other nosy neighbours at bay for now. Her body hit the floor with a heavy thud, causing some of her blood to splatter across the adjacent wall. Raven limped over to the well-meaning woman and squat down by her head, watching the trail of crimson stain her heart shaped face. “Why couldn’t you have minded your own business big mama? I actually liked you.”

 

With another agitated sigh, Raven got to work with packing her gear. If this Wesker guy was as good as her ex-contact made him sound, he’d find her if she stayed. Too much linked her to this place and now she had a corpse to worry about. Once she had what she could not live without and set her computers to purge, she lugged her heavy bags out the door, leaving big mama to be found by someone else… a lot of research was about being scrubbed from her hard drives but she was a patient woman. She needed to do something to occupy her mind while her body healed…. Ribs take forever to heal… She’ll get it back and pick up the hunt where she left off. Only this time she will have a new target.

Albert Wesker.


	2. Small World

_Wesker’s p.o.v._

The area was alive with frantic activity as law enforcement and the occasional resident flustered about the apartment complex. One could be forgiven for mistaking them for insects, they certainly behaved like them. Mindlessly mulling about, not truly knowing their purpose or destination and only aware of their own panic. Some of the residents had taken the mantle of macabre observers, trying desperately to get a glimpse of the room currently under scrutiny of the local NYPD. The building’s superintendent stood against the wall, doing his best not to look into the room that had rendered him almost speechless, making the pale old man relatively useless to the officer trying to get his statement.

The elder merely shook his head and mumbled “She never showed her face” as he stared to the ground.

Wesker walked past the pair as if he owned the crime scene, dressed in his usual smart attire of all black and approached the taped off doorway. The officer that was standing guard raised his hand to stop him but one flash from his credentials silenced any foolish attempt to get in his way. Without so much as a huff, Wesker stepped under the tape and glanced around the cordoned off room. Crime scene investigators moved around the small apartment, snapping photographs and dusting for fingerprints in the hopes of finding some evidence to identify who owned the apartment. Or at the very least, to prove who was the killer once they caught and prosecuted them in the court of law.

In the centre of the chaos was the body of a rather bucksome middle aged woman, shot at point blank range. The local homicide detective was currently crouched beside her, examining the head wound. He was dressed in the usual attire one would associate with a detective, consisting of the dark brown of-the-rack suit, white shirt and a dull tie, almost making Wesker cringe at the horrible cliché. The spy grabbed the manifest of the evidence found thus far and couldn’t help but smirk at how little they had retrieved. All they had was the 9mm bullet retrieved from the victim and the vague notion that the tenant of this apartment was a woman. No prints, no hair, no approximate age, nothing from the hard drives could be retrieved from the highly advanced computer station - pending the technician’s confirmation, even the food and sanitary products the occupant had left behand were all generic brands that can be found in every store.

 

 _‘You have been busy my dear…’_ he mused to himself.

Suddenly, the manifest was snatched from his hand by a particularly agitated detective whom spoke in a rather demanding tone. “Just who the hell are you and how did you get into my crime scene!?”

Opting to answer the second question first, Wesker turned to face the rude detective and spoke with his usual cold demeanour. “Through the front door.” There was no humour in his voice and he took his time to show the detective his credentials. “Agent Arthur Doyle, FBI.” He returned it to his breast pocket before the detective could take that as well.

“What the hell are the Fed’s doing here?” scoffed the overworked investigator, resisting the urge to rub his eyes as he tried to stare through the ‘agent’s’ glasses.

“We have reasons to believe that a particularly dangerous assassin lived in this premises.” Answered Wesker dismissively as he approached the computer station, staring at the empty bulletin board. Tiny bits of paper were still attached to the pins.

“An assassin? Gimme a break.” Sighed the detective exasperatedly as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Ok I’ll bite, what lead you here?”

Wesker was tempted to break his neck upon request but thought better of it. “Evidence from a separate crime scene” was all he said as he approached the nearby workbench.

 

There was an opened package with the address and apartment number written on it but it did not have a name. It had been sent from a unique blade and metal work shop, specialising in swords and daggers. Wesker tipped the package to allow its contents to roll onto the bench, revealing the oils used to treat and repair a Katana blade. This is what lead him here. The analysis of the blade piece retrieved from the incident earlier this evening had traces of these unique oils moulded with the distinctive steel ribbons. A small slip of paper had also tipped out and was quickly snatched by the spy before the ever-annoying detective could. Since he was already wearing gloves, he did not need to concern himself about leaving his own prints at the scene.

 

He opened the slip of paper to read “Missed me” written in a very neat and steady hand. Wesker furrowed his brow at the statement. It was a taunt. That message was for him.

The detective read the message aloud and stared at Wesker, expecting an answer. “What the hell does that mean? Did she know you were on her tail?”

The spy removed an evidence bag from a separate pocket and placed the note inside. He decided not to give the detective any more help and answered elusively “It would appear so.”

“We’ll need a copy of that.” Retorted the detective as Wesker pocketed the note.

“But of course you will.” Answered Wesker as he headed for the bathroom.

 

The Detective motioned for his partner to come closer and asked him to call in about this ‘Agent Arthur Doyle’ for he did not trust a man who wore sunglasses at night. It screamed CIA not FBI. This meant Wesker had to move quickly. He entered the extremely white and pristine bathroom and locked the door behind him. He scanned the area before searching the draws for any kind of a clue. Like the local PD, he turned up nothing so he examined the basin drain. There didn’t appear to be anything however, appearances can be deceiving. From yet another pocket, Wesker removed a small grey case and opened it to reveal a field evidence kit. He withdrew the pliers and fished inside the drain for a hair sample. With no luck, he turned his attention to the shower and searched the drain there. A single, dark brown hair was caught between the webbing beneath the drain and was carefully placed inside a small evidence bag. It even had a root at the end of it.

 

This earned a self-satisfied smile as he stood and secured his belongings. A loud knock interrupted his revere as the homicide detective yelled “Alright Sherlock, you’ve had a good laugh, now come on out of there and explain just who the hell you are.”

 _‘Ah, it would appear that you have caught on to my little joke… took you long enough.’_ Thought Wesker to himself as he opened the bathroom window and climbed out onto the narrow ledge.

 

There was no fire escape, only a straight drop to the ground. Thankfully, this was merely the first floor and the jump was child’s play to one such as he. Wesker hopped into the dark alley below him and barely bent his knees when he landed, just as the bathroom door had been broken down by the rather daft local PD. He quickly jumped over the alley wall and rather casually walked into the street, mingling with the never-ending crowd long before the detective could catch up.

 

_Raven’s p.o.v._

_Six weeks later._

 

A puff of air escaped her lips as Raven forced herself into a sitting position, only to drop back again onto the dingy basement floor. She repeated the process, deliberately pacing herself so she could assess if her ribs had truly healed at last. The grip she held to the back of her neck was firm but not bone crushingly tight. She did not need to give herself another caught nerve or random injury right now. The assassin exhaled again as her elbows touched her knees then grunted as she twisted her abdomen, touching her left knee with her right elbow before repeating the action with her opposite limbs. Sweat dripped continuously down her face in a seemingly never ending flow of heat and physical exertion. She had been at this since dawn.

Raven always used her early mornings to exercise and practice her Katas, physical fitness is a must in her line of work but one can only do so much… especially if they’ve been carrying or recovering from their injuries. She was dressed in her black sports bra and training shorts, showing off her muscle tone and her new scar. Her right thigh flexed every time she crunched her stomach, causing her leg to blanch slightly as the muscles are used. This made the already pink, raised scar tissue more noticeable to the agitated assassin, angered by her the unfortunate turn of events that led her to dance with one of Umbrella’s finest foot soldiers.

Oh yes… She had done her homework.

As it turns out, one has plenty of time to hack into several mainframes to recover the data lost during her purging event… and to retrieve new information when they’re recovering from broken ribs as well as a rather deep stab wound in the thigh. The trick was getting her equipment again… now that was hard. Raven would forever be indebted to her high school buddy Rat for he was the one who taught her how to be so proficient with computers. Once you know binary code and calculative algorithms, you can take over the world… so long as you remember to re-rout your IP address. But like with everyone from her past… he was long dead… and it was not by her hand.

It turned out her fair-haired nemesis was one named Albert Wesker. He was born 1960, making him about 38 years old, a Scorpio… which was a little creepy since she is as well, is an American but his accent was far too refined to her ears, even in the heat of combat so she assumed he has either had very formal education or was raised with the posh elite of the country. Scum bags. She hated the rich almost as much as she hated Umbrella corporation. She also gauged him to be six foot, maybe six foot three but she couldn’t be sure for now. His blood type is O+, was a researcher at the Arklay branch for Umbrella, and is currently employed by Umbrella's Intelligence Bureau. Anything more specific than that, such as how long he was a researcher, what he researched and what field of science he even specialized in, was highly classified and she would be required to hack in ‘on site’ to obtain such information.

She wasn’t ready for that. No. Raven will need to ease her way back into her world with a personal yet simple hit and she must announce to those who know what to look for that she was back in business. With a frustrated grunt, the assassin stopped her stomach crunches and rested her arms against her knees, slowly catching her breath. Her ribs no longer hurt but her leg occasionally spazimed with a jolt of electrical pain. She was concerned that Wesker might have caused some nerve damage. If that was the case, she’d be sure to return the favour. Raven turned to eye her new intelligence centre, almost a perfect replica of the one she left behind over a month ago with the new addition of Wesker’s face on her personal hit list.

 

She stood and approached her bulletin board with a mild limp, staring at the blurry image of the agent who had successfully given her a moment’s pause. She couldn’t help but wonder why he wore sunglasses all the time, even at night. _‘Did he suffer from migraines? That would explain why the flash bang grenade was so effective against him. Perhaps I should make a stock pile of them…’_

 

Raven smiled cruelly at the thought of causing him pain. She was still incredibly bitter about him stopping her from killing her primary target and had every intention to make him pay for it. One way or the other. She then turned her attention to a group of people pretty low on her hierarchy. These were lead scientists that were apparently important enough to become board members and the latest batch of gift wrapped intel from Omni pharmaceuticals informed her that there was going to be a meeting next week. It was to be at another Prometheus tech business complex, only this time it was one of the high rises for the most exclusive corporations, close to wall street. She was going to need to be clever… and careful.

The assassin turned and limped over to her bed. Since the basement she was currently hold up in was so small all of her belongings seemed to be within arm’s reach at all times. It was even more cramped than her last apartment with her work bench a weapons rack. Hell, she didn’t even have a bathroom or a kitchen this time. Just a small set of busted wooden stairs that lead up into the street and a single file concrete staircase that lead to the building she was currently living under. With a sigh, Raven grabbed her towel and dried herself off, then sprayed herself down with deodorant and perfume. She’d have to go to the gym to shower up, then she could begin her hunt.

She packed a gym duffel bag with what she needed to freshen up, threw on a white T-shirt and headed out to the street. Raven pushed over the trap door with a strained grunt, making a mental note to grease the hinges when she returned and closed the door behind her. She glanced at the twenty or so up-coming-event posters plastered on top of each other as she exited the alley and merged with the crowd as she made her way to the gym. She glanced over her shoulder to ensure no one was paying any attention to her and couldn’t help but read the sign of her current place of residence “Cross Roads Bar.” The damn place was freaken loud from about six o’clock until two in the morning, making sleep difficult but not impossible. Finding a new place to live was on her to-do-list today as well. But she needed to stay off the grid. That made accommodation much more difficult to attain.

...Time Skip...

 

Raven sat patiently on the typical alfresco café chair with one leg crossed over the other. She was now wearing her usual choice of civilian clothing consisting of a black singlet that showed her cleavage, navy blue denim jeans and calf high women’s combat boots. She was also wearing a NY baseball cap, curved at the rim to minimise the never-ending sun glare that agitated her sleep deprived eyes and provided some obscurity for her features. She sipped her cappuccino carefully, savouring the double shot of espresso mixed with hot milk while ‘reading’ the newspaper. 

The assassin faced the café, keeping her back to the street without a care in the world. One could consider this a bad move but Raven had a few advantages from sitting like this. No one can see her face while she used the reflection from the café window to watch the building behind her. She observed the comings and goings of the people who worked at the Prometheus tech business complex, taking care to occasionally move her head as though she were reading and to turn the page after about ten minutes of false observation.

She paid particular attention to the people wearing the extremely expensive business suits whom carried their postures with a sense of entitlement. Her quick eyes took note of their name badges as they crossed the street and watched for the added weight of keys in their pockets. The lack there of suggested a key card was necessary to bypass the security of the inner workings of this facility so she watched out for someone who was a bit clumsy with their belongings. Raven was also waiting to see if there were any obvious or subtle forms of armed security personal, paying particular attention to the people who had the extra bulge in their jackets under their arms. It was a dead giveaway every time.

Now she watched for the service staff. The people who are always ignored, never acknowledge for their efforts yet are heavily relied upon for their roles within the business. The cooks, the cleaners, tech support, and secretaries.  These poor sods have the worst hours of the day so Raven would need to come back at dusk and dawn to observe their departure. For now, she intended to head to the library and ‘borrow’ any blueprints for the building. She liked to have more than one way to complete a hit with multiple exit strategies in place. But with feeling a little drained already she decided to head inside the café and order another cup of coffee… maybe even a muffin.

 

_Wesker’s p.o.v._

“I have already forwarded the manifesto containing my recommendations for your security appraisal, I advise that you adhere to them.” Wesker spoke with his usual professional tone into his bluetooth headset while he sifted through some paperwork.

“Mr. Wesker, while we appreciate your work, we feel that you are being a little overzealous. The safeguards you wish to put in place seem to be… how shall we say this? Over the top? There aren’t any B.O.W’s or research documentation on sight. Why would this or any of our front complex’s become a target?” The CEO for the ‘Prometheus’ business complex waited with almost baited breath for the intelligence operative to respond.

Unimpressed with the foolish ‘it won’t happen to me’ mentality from the common dullards of society, even those under the employ of Umbrella Corporation, he neatly placed his paperwork into a pile on his desk and deliberately waited a few seconds before answering the CEO. “I assume that you are aware of the assassination attempt on Lord Spencer?”

“Yes… but I fail to-”

“Then you are aware of the procedure. Any attempt on a founding member of the corporation’s life will cause an immediate security evaluation and appraisal for all corporate bodies.”

“But that was six weeks ago!”

“The fronts are the last to be apprised. While there are other security operatives that can assess the protocols of each establishment it has fallen to me to give the final word. Unfortunately, that takes time. I do apologise for the delay and for the inconvenience.” Wesker couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the level of polite etiquette he must maintain with these people at all times.

The CEO responded in an agitated but mostly a concerned voice. “Why hasn’t the culprit been found yet? Isn’t that what you people do best? Find the people responsible to ensure it never happens again?”

During the conversation, he had left his well-furnished study and entered his modern styled kitchen, pulling out a mug to grab himself a pot of coffee. “I am afraid I cannot disclose such information; all I can say is we are working towards several leads. I ask that you reconsider my recommendations and contact me with your final answer by sixteen hundred hours today or the decision will be made for you.”

 

Wesker touched the side of his ear piece, hanging up the phone without waiting for the recipient to respond or to even bid him good day. He was tired of cleaning up umbrella’s mess but he was also disappointed with himself for not being able to locate the would-be-assassin who came rather close to eliminated Oswald E. Spencer. The assassin…Whoever she was, had proven to be quite resourceful so far. It’s not easy to remain off the grid, hidden from the multitude of camera’s and eyes of the world these days and it will only grow worse with the advancement of technology in time. He would undoubtedly have to personally confront the negligent CEO about his security and remind him that he truly did not have a choice.

However, the illusion of free will must be maintained. So, he will be free to choose if his wife and children should live or die. If Wesker felt such leverage was necessary. It shouldn’t be yet here he was, discussing the obvious need for a boost in security with someone who should know better than to challenge him. Or should he say, challenge the will of Spencer? Wesker frowned slightly at the thought as he checked the filter for his percolator and opened the cupboard where he normally stored the beans. He sighed when he saw he had run out. Again. He is NOT a complaisant man. So it truly did agitate him when forgets something, particularly if it is as trivial as purchasing coffee beans before he runs out.

 

_‘Wesker… you have gone **senile!’**_

 

The voice of Chris Redfield mocked him from the recesses of his mind, causing his anger to flair to the point where he rammed his fist into the open cupboard. His hand had punctured the wall behind the shelves, causing the contents to scatter and fall to the kitchen bench, then bounce to the floor. With an agitated growl, he removed his hand from the hole he’d made and squatted down to retrieve his misplaced containers normally used to store sugar, tea, or coffee. Wesker placed them on the counter and closed the cupboard door before placing both hands on the counter, taking the time to calm down. Chris… just had a way with pissing him off… even in memory.

 

He made a note of what he needed for repairs and turned to go to his bedroom for a change of clothes.  

 

…Time Skip...

 

Wesker was now dressed in his usual formal attire of his suit but loathed wearing ties unless he was addressing the board or Lord Spencer himself. As a result, he was wearing his turtle neck shirt beneath his waist length jacket. The meeting went about as well as he expected. Once he appeared in person the pathetic excuse of a man more or less soiled himself and ceased his pointless bickering about the security of his establishment. Satisfied that the day was not a total loss, the spy decided to enter the coffee shop adjacent from the Prometheus business complex to purchase the beans he desired along with the morning fix of caffeine he had missed to his own tardiness. He supposed it was a habit he should rectify if not dismiss it entirely but he did enjoy a good cup of coffee. It just so happened to be one of the few pleasures in life he allowed himself to indulge in.

Unfortunately, the café was packed with patrons, limiting the chances of finding a seat to enjoy his beverage in peace. He acknowledged that he should take his coffee and drink it on the go but if there was one thing that annoyed him beyond words, it would be spilling coffee all over his clothes. To reduce the chance of such a frustrating even to occur, Wesker stood in line and awaited to be served. He more or less ignored the robotic greeting the punkish cashier uttered from her bored lips and gave her his order for pressed beans and a tall Late’. After a few minutes of patient waiting, he received his order and paid for her services.

He turned to see if there were any vacant seats available in the crowded café and frowned at the thought of having to carry the hot beverage to another location. Even the alfresco area was packed with customers, socialising or sating their basic needs. Interestingly enough, there was a single seat available however it was currently being used as a foot rest for a woman reading the newspaper. She sipped absently on her cappuccino and stared intently at her article, leaning forward slightly at what had captivated her attention. Strange, that no one had asked her to move her feet. When he approached the lone vacant seat, he could not help but perceive this aura of ice that seemed to surround this lone woman. Despite being right next to her, he could not see her face. It was obscured by her long dark brown hair and the rim of her hat.

 

_Raven’s p.o.v._

“Pardon my intrusion miss, but might I join you for a moment?” An ever so polite, smooth, and incredibly familiar British accent pulled Raven away from the article about the latest scandal involving the pharmaceutical giant, Umbrella corporation.

 _‘Holy fucking shit! The devil himself! Stay calm, just stay calm…’_ It took every ounce of her discipline and will power **NOT** to freak right the hell out when she saw who it was out of the corner of her eye. Without looking up, she tilted her head silently as if she were asking ‘why’ without uttering a single word while her mind raced a mile a minute, trying to think of how to get the fuck out of dodge without being recognised.

The fair-haired agent motioned with his head for Raven to observe the monotonous crowd surrounding them as he answered her unspoken question. “It appears that there is no more room.”

After a brief pause, the assassin moved her feet from the chair and nudge it open, an invitation for him to take a seat. Being a bitch right now and ignoring him, did not seem to be a smart move.

He took the seat and placed his coffee and beans on the table with a slight nod in gratitude. “Thank you.”

Raven had nod in return, without speaking and resumed staring at the paper in her hands. Her heart pounded in her ears and had to focus on keeping her breath steady so she wouldn’t draw attention to herself. _‘At least he’s polite… when he’s not trying to kill you… crap now what do I do? Wait him out? Yeah like that won’t look suspicious, no not at all… this girl wearing a hat indoors takes forever to drink her coffee… mind you he is still wearing his sunglasses indoors…’_

She dared to look up slightly, only allowing the world to see her chin and her lips and saw he had been staring at her the entire time. Raven tilted her head as if to say ‘what?’, to which Wesker answered. “Forgive me for staring but it is quite rare to meet one as quiet as you. It has been my experience that most people would attempt to engage in small talk by now.”

 

Raven scoffed in amusement before turning the page over for the next article, depicting she was not interested in small talk. She could’ve sworn she saw a half smile briefly cross his chiselled features before returning to their stoic expression. Wesker leaned into his seat and pulled another newspaper from the nearby rack before taking a sip from his late’. A comfortable silence fell between them, neither party felt the need to breach it but both could feel the other’s gaze from time to time. Which was interesting considering neither of them had revealed their eyes to the other.

As subtly as she could, Raven took in every detail of her opponent. His relaxed demeanour was quite deceptive; if it weren’t for the fact that she knew he was a trained killer she could have easily mistaken him as a businessman with a distinct sense of style. The s.o.b. could have been a model. She shook the thought from her head and resumed ‘reading’ the paper. What was striking her as odd, was how familiar he seemed to her now. Besides their first combat encounter, she could have sworn they have met before… but for the life of her she could not place where.

 

Suddenly his voice interrupted her thoughts again. “Excuse me but, have we met before? I feel like I know you.”

Foolishly Raven broke her silence with another scoff, having heard this one before. “Yeah. How’s that line working for you?” and looked to see his response.

Wesker paused before leaning forward with one of the sharpest smiles she had ever seen. “It appears to be working quite well.”

The tell-tale click of the hammer being pulled back on an automatic handgun alerted Raven to her mistake. She didn’t even flinch. Instead she sipped her coffee quite calmly before moving to do the same. “Clever. Tripped by a pickup line.”

“Thank you.” His smile dropped just as she pulled the hammer back for her own gun. It was now a stalemate. Both of them had a gun trained on them and neither of them could move.


	3. My Nemesis

  _Raven’s P.O.V._

The situation couldn’t possibly be more intense than what it is now. Funnily enough Raven found she preferred death defying combat in comparison to this current sense of impending doom that is being generated by their standoff… despite how relaxed and casual they both appeared to be. In reality, one would have to look under the table to know they were holding each other at gunpoint. But in all honesty to herself, this is also rather stimulating. How rare it is to have been found so soon. It was unheard of. Still, her adversary will have to earn the right to discover her true identity on his own accord. So, she will not give it to him, her features remained hidden under her cap.

 

As calm as ever, the assassin tilted her face and allowed some of her hair to shift with the gravity. “What gave me away?”

“Your silence.” He answered smoothly before extrapolating “not even a deaf mute avoids communicative interaction as much as you did.”

She scoffed and leaned back slightly in her seat. “I shall remember that for next time.”

Wesker continued to resemble a statue, displaying no emotion or shift in body language. “What lead you to believe there will be a next time?”

“Call me an optimist.” She teased, being sure to never leave ‘eye contact’ with the man who has currently backed her into a corner.

“Indeed. Only an optimist would consider walking out of here alive. Unless of course you were in my custody.” He spoke calmly, keeping his tone cold and professional.

Raven shook her head slightly and sighed. “You see, I don’t do so well in tight spaces. So, going to prison or winding up as one of Umbrella’s test subjects worries me.”

Unaffected by the revelation of who his employers were, Wesker continued to use his professional tone. “Then consider the alternative. A coffin is even smaller than a cell.”

“That is assuming that you would be so kind as to bury me. I’d imagine my corpse would be put to good use for dead tissue analysis and potential re-animative properties.” She continued without missing a beat.

“You appear to know an awful lot about Umbrella and how it operates.” Mused Wesker aloud, watching every move she made.

“That I do” she cooed before continuing. “Does that worry you?”

“No.” He stated matter of factly. “Why should that cause one such as I concern?”

Raven leaned forward slightly, speaking with a deadly edge in her tone. “Because information is power. Wealth is a close second, but it is information that can cripple corporations, topple governments, and turn the most trusted hero into the most atrocious villain.”

 

The assassin could have sworn she saw a half smile briefly grace his face before disappearing under his steel like gaze. Obviously, he agreed. This made him even more dangerous than she initially suspected but before he could reciprocate their rather casual conversation, a woman suddenly approached the deadly pair. She was over encumbered with her assortment of fashion boutique bags, carrying the latest trends designed for people with her anorexic body shape and was talking quite loudly on her mobile phone. She barely watched where she was going and forced the fair-haired agent to dodge the dozen or more bags she had strapped to one arm, momentarily loosing direct sight of Raven.

 Raven, did not waist the opportunity. She flipped the table and made a mad dash towards the counter, causing the skinny ditz and many other patrons to gasp and yell. The screaming started almost immediately when Wesker retaliated by firing his gun at the retreating assassin, causing the startled people to run for their lives. The bullet whizzed past her head and slammed into the cashier who had frozen still in panic. She dropped to the floor as her blood sprayed from her chest while Raven dove over the counted to dodge even more gunfire.

Within a millisecond, she had bounced back up to return fire at where Wesker should have been, only to hit a random customer instead. The man had died before he even knew what hit him right between the eyes, causing Raven to curse under her breath as she adjusted her aim. The spy had ducked behind a nearby pillar and peaked over the side. Raven fired two shots, striking the pillar where his head was, missing as he ducked at the last second, then darted towards the counter. He was a hell of a lot faster than what she was used to and was on her before she even had a chance to fire again. Like he somehow blinked in and out of existence.

Wesker grabbed her wrist and bent it on and odd angle with his right hand while delivering a jab with his left. Raven yelled out painfully as she felt her wrist crack under the pressure, causing her to drop her gun and only just managed to duck low enough to dodge the attack. An aluminium baseball bat was resting beneath the counter, undoubtedly meant for deterring burglaries. She managed to grab it just as Wesker grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and hoisted her up above the counter.

She drove the tip of the batt into his jaw, earning a grunt as the force of contact moved his head back. His grip, however, did not falter. Instead he slammed her head into the counter hard enough to split the skin of her temple, causing blood to seep through the wound as he continued to drive her head into the hard surface. With a rage filled growl, the assassin managed to twist her body, popping her right shoulder out of its socket as she wrapped her thighs around his neck and crushed the air flow completely out of his throat.

He finally released his grip on her wrist and neck to grab her thighs out of reflex. Wesker moved back a few steps, lifted her body above his head and slammed it into the counter. Raven yelled again for she swore she felt something else break before bringing the batt down on top of his head, all the while still keeping her legs wrapped securely around his neck. The force of the impact **should** have cracked his head open but much to her dismay it didn’t. That hollow sound of metal hitting something hard echoed in the café as Wesker growled in anger and pain. Raven moved to smack his head again but he caught the batt and ripped it from her grasp and tossed it away.

Wesker then grabbed her sides and threw her into the nearby pillar, freeing himself from her headlock at the same time. With a grunt, Raven slid down the pillar until her feet touched the ground and it took everything it could not to allow herself to crumble to the ground. Her resolve didn’t really help though as Wesker’s knee rammed into her stomach. All the air rushed from her lungs as she fell forward but she never hit the ground. A firm, merciless grip hoisted her back up and pinned her against the pillar as she struggled to get the air back into her lungs.

Raven tried to slam her fists down into Wesker’s cubital fossa, so she could force him to bend his arms and lose his grip on her throat but to no avail, he didn’t even flinch. So, in a last-ditch effort to remain conscious against this devil, she walked her feet along his body and pushed with all her might. He laughed as he merely leaned back, infuriating the assassin as her mind began to black out. She allowed her knees to bend, bringing her legs against her chest suddenly, surprising the agent, while she quickly grabbed the knife she kept hidden in the side of her boot at all times and jammed it into his right cheek!

Blood gushed everywhere as Raven was dropped onto her dislocated shoulder, her scream mixing with Wesker’s howl of pain. She looked up just in time to see him rip the serrated blade from his face, yet remarkably his glasses were still attached to his eye sockets. It was then she realised that her hat had flown off when she fell and quickly scrambled to get it back on as she crawled onto her feet. She bolted for the counter, flipping over the cumbersome obstruction to her exit, grabbing her gun in mid-flight and shot the very pissed off agent as soon as her feet touched the ground.

The impact into his chest knocked him back a step but it didn’t slow him down for long. The lack of blood would suggest he was wearing a vest or perhaps the black on black clothing prevented her from seeing anything but that really didn’t matter right now. Raven didn’t stick around to see what happened next. She shot the window and jumped through the fractured glass before running into the startled crowd.

The all too familiar sirens announcing the presence of the local law enforcement spurred her to keep running. Raven panted heavily, never daring to look back until she was sure she wouldn’t trip on something when she did. Thankfully Wesker was not behind her but this did not mean she was safe. She needed to take the scenic route home so she quickly ducked into an alley and struggled to open a manhole. The heavy metal lid groaned open and scraped against the asphalt, making her wince at the aggravating sound before quickly hopping down the ladder. She paused before lowering herself completely so she could close the lid and take one last look around before disappearing beneath the city’s streets.

She slid down the metallic ladder and landed quite heavily into the stinking sewage water that came up to her ankles. The assassin paused for a brief moment, listening for anything really, before loosening her belt buckle and pulled free the leather accessory. She made a loop, using the buckle to secure it in place before tying the loose end to the ladder she just came down from. Carefully, she squeezed her right hand through the loop and pulled it tight before positioning her body to stand side on, facing her injured arm to the ladder and began to lean back. She gritted her teeth and seethed in pain as she yanked her body backwards, popping her shoulder back into its socket with a low, painful growl.

Once it was back in, her shoulder felt fantastic but get getting it back in… that truly hurt. She quickly patted herself down after removing her arm from her belt, pressing against her injuries to see how bad they were. Thankfully, all her other wounds appeared to be superficial, perhaps some soft tissue damage and deep bruising but they are manageable. Definitely more bearable than the rotting stench of an underground sewer. With a sigh, Raven made her way down the tunnel complex, as silent as ever, bracing her hand against the wall until her eyes adjusted to the darkness, leading her to two tunnels, breaking into opposite directions.

Eventually, she spotted a tiny little symbol that mimicked the outline of a raven, perched on top of a dead branch, drawn into the brickwork beside the light in white chalk. That was her signature, her mark for her work and for her location. But it was just a picture to most people, and it was too small for many to even notice it was there. The purpose for this drawing was to act as a guide for Raven to find her way back to a safe house. If a line had been drawn through it, it meant she was no longer there or she deemed it to be too dangerous to return. She stared at the symbol, contemplating the odds that Wesker could find her current base of operations and decided that absolutely nothing linked her to her current domicile.

With a heavy sigh, Raven followed her markings that lead back to her shoe box of a home.

 

_…Time Skip..._

 

It was difficult to creep back into the basement of the bar without being noticed but… she’s pretty good at sneaking around. Once inside and both of her exits were locked and secured, Raven immediately stripped out of her clothes and examined her wounds. Deep, dark bruises were popping up all over the place and the bleeding from her head had stopped. Lucky, but her shoulder was truly giving her grief now so she would need to go upstairs and ask for some ice. Hopefully the barkeep Joe wouldn’t ask any questions. He usually just said “rent’s due” or “thank you” when she paid up. His affiliation with bikers is probably what kept him disinterested in other people’s business. He didn’t see anything, you didn’t see anything. Something along those lines. Useful to one such as her.

With a strained groan, she rotated her shoulder before grabbing a bucket with a wash cloth folded over the side before walking over to her mini fridge. It popped open with some resistance, causing the bottled water she kept inside to fall over in their stands. She grabbed one and closed the fridge with her hip before walking towards her ‘intelligence centre’. She took a few gulps before pouring the rest of the water into the bucket and proceeded to give herself a pommy wash while she waited for her computers to warm up. She needed more intel on Wesker. He’s proven to be more of a problem than she initially thought he’d be.

_‘The bastard is damn good at what he does… but at least I marked his pretty face.’_ She chuckled at the thought as she wrung out the cloth and folded it over the side of the bucket again. She placed the now spoiled water away from her computers as she walked back to her bed and pulled on a fresh set of clothes. Nothing fancy, she didn’t do fancy, just a regular set of a T-shirt and jeans before sitting at her station to pull up Wesker’s file again. She growled at the amount of blacked out information that undoubtedly explained how he could move so fast.

She scrolled back to the tiny snippet of information that provided his age, height, and all the other data a clever mind could guess and frowned. Something wasn’t right. She noticed the date on the document was 1998. This made the information two years old. That meant Wesker was forty years old. Not thirty-eight. This. Was just embarrassing. Missing such a tiny bit of information probably doesn’t mean much to most people, but to her it meant she was distracted and distractions get you killed. Raven leaned back into her chair, covered her face and yelled into her hands.

With a muffled voice, she grumbled “I’ve had my butt kicked by an old man! Stupid. Fucking. Idiot! GAH THIS MEANS WAR!”

Raven immediately started planning how she was going to kill the board members in the most public way possible so that any and all would receive her message. ‘I am here.’

 

_Wesker’s p.o.v_

The arrival of New York’s finest put an end to their little game, much to Wesker’s disappointment, and caused him to quickly clean up the crime scene (namely his blood, discarded weapons, and his coffee beans which thankfully, did not tear out of their packaging) and disappear out the back door. It had been a long time since he had tasted his own blood and even longer since he had been presented with a challenge. No matter. In her haste, the mystery assassin had left behind a few clues for him to utilize. Namely her improvised weapon, the aluminium baseball bat.

While it was true that she left her knife firmly implanted into his cheek, the handle had been wrapped with a thin cloth, capturing a few fabric samples by default but eliminated any finger prints that would have ordinarily been left behind. Unfortunately, the grip on the bat was made of a foam like material but, there was a fresh set of prints further along on the metallic part. There was a fifty/fifty chance that they belonged to the cashier or the assassin. Only time would tell.

Once he had returned to the safety of his manor, he dropped his coffee beans on the kitchen counter before descending into his ‘basement’. With the flick of a switch, the sterile environment hummed into view under the merciless glow of the fluorescent lighting, revealing several work benches, lab equipment, test tubes, stasis tank and the various amounts of chemicals and tech that he required to continue his research here. He approached the wash station and examined his damaged cheek, seeing the wound had already closed.

Wesker retrieved his old evidence kit and immediately began dusting the aluminium bat for prints. He lifting the ones he had spotted earlier, but also a partial print close the handle. Once transferred to printed sheets and uploaded into his system for analysis, he took the time to peel off his tattered jacket and shirt, tisking at the blood and torn fabric before tossing it aside. He removed his glasses and placed them close to the monitors, then examined the bullet wound currently lodged in his collar bone. The bullet was still trapped against the bone so he used a pair of pliers to pry it from his flesh. He sighed with relief once it was out and could feel his flesh regenerating already. He kept the bullet so he could analyse it for ballistics in a minute. For now, he proceeded to clean himself up.

Now that the pressing matters were under control, Wesker found himself becoming increasingly agitated with this assassin. This was the second time she got away from him and that simply will not do. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, cracking it to relieve some of the tension that had been building in his shoulders before leaning against the work bench. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had met her before... but for the life of him, he could not place when or where… and without facial recognition, the only clue he had was her voice.

He was distracted with the soft chime of his computer announcing the completion of its appointed task and carefully read through its information. The print he had lifted belonged to the punkish cashier. She had a DUI and quite a few outstanding speeding tickets. Obviously not the assassin. The partial turned up nothing, making the mystery woman a ghost in the system. A cleanskin. That made her dangerous. Wesker growled slightly under his breath and grabbed the bullet he had pried out of himself to examine it under a microscope. He pulled up the chair and got comfortable as he examined the markings, snapping a photo for comparison and grabbed the previous sample he had from the assassin’s apartment.

While he was in deep thought examining the different markings left by different guns, Wesker made a list of what he knew so far. The woman knew multiple disciplines of martial arts (their two encounters had been evidence of this), she has had training with firearms and blades, has an extensive knowledge of umbrella corporation… the kind of knowledge an insider would know… or someone who has been on the receiving end of their… hospitality. That or she was rather talented with information retrieval. She is approximately 5’6, quick, flexible, has a high pain threshold, Mid-western American accent, and a natural flair for confrontational sarcasm. Undoubtedly a defence mechanism… and it would appear that her next target is in the Prometheus business complex.

At least… that was his assumption. What were the odds that he would find the assassin at that particular coffee shop on happenstance alone? Rather remote. Obviously, he would be required to remain in the area for a while to confirm or dismiss that thought. He leaned back in his chair and pinched his lip as his mind raced away with multiple scenarios, potential leads and unfathomable explanations as to the identity of the elusive woman and how he could attain it.

 

_~one week later~_

Wesker was currently standing in the back of the conference room like a good guard dog, watching the meeting that he had advised against while checking the employee and the clientele list once more. The complacency of the people he served astounded him but what was truly frustrating was that he was still their servant. Plans had been put into motion to leave the sinking ship that is Umbrella behind and become an independent party however, he was still required to wait for the most opportune moment to truly slink into the shadows, never to be seen again. His wounds had long since healed since his second bout with the feme fatale without so much as a scratch… no scars, he never scarred, not anymore.

He shook the train of thought from his mind as the secretary entered the room, dressed in a smart grey suit, carrying a tray of beverages for the board to enjoy. He scanned her features closely, noting how uncomfortable his gaze made her for the ginger servant did everything in her power to avoid ‘eye contact’ with him and still watch where she was going. Her chin and lower lip looked nothing like the brief glimpse of the assassin, nor was her skin tone or hair colour correct. However, all of that can be falsified with prosthetics and make-up.

 

The spy raised his hand to stop her in her tracks and examined the fresh pot of coffee and tea. “State your name.” He commanded coldly as he rotated and lifted the items at hand. There was a unique design of a bird perched atop of a dead branch, branded onto the coffee and tea pots. Odd.

“M-Mary sir… Mary Louise Johnson.” Answered the nervous secretary.

Wesker stopped checking the contents and stared right at the poor woman, whose voice was far too high in pitch to be the assassin however, that too can be faked. “How long have you been working here miss Johnson?”

“Th-Three month’s sir…” She was shaking now, he could literally smell the fear. Now that can’t be faked.

He made a show of checking the list, finding her name, then checking her badge for efficiency sake alone before moving aside, allowing her to pass but she had yet to move. “You may proceed miss Johnson.”

 

With a sharp nod and a hurried walk, the secretary quickly refilled the board members’ cups before dashing back to the safety of her work station in the adjacent room. He meeting continued to revolve around the decline in corporate profits as Wesker’s attention was directed back to the odd design for the serving crockery. It was not unlike Umbrella to use animal based designs on their property but this felt rather… deliberate. Just as he began to suspect something, some of the board members began to wheeze, interrupting the proceedings and earned the concern of their peers. One apathetic member, however, did not seem to be overly concerned and proceeded to take a sip form their untouched cup.

 

Within a millisecond, Wesker had grabbed that board member’s wrist and slammed it back into the table. “Don’t drink it! It has been poisoned!”

 

This rendered the healthy members of the board into a state of shock and panic. The poisoned members had already collapsed with swollen lips and tongues. Severe anaphylaxis had caused them to asphyxiate… suffocate to death. Wesker had already triggered the alarm and was beginning to direct the surviving members toward the exit as he drew his gun. Suddenly, the loud crack of breaking glass was followed by the squelch of flesh as a board member’s head exploded right in front of him.

The chorus of screams intensified as the remaining few scrambled for the exit. Only to be cut down by sniper fire. The other security members that had just burst through the door returned fire through the office windows but Wesker didn’t bother to do the same. He knew that their weapons did not have the range to reach the building across the way. It was a waist of bullets. Instead he grabbed the only surviving member and rushed them through the door. He shoved them behind the secretary’s desk and braced himself against the wall, peaking over his shoulder to see the glare from the sniper’s scope.

He saw the shimmer followed by two muzzle flashes, causing him to shuffle away from the window just in time to dodge the bullet meant for his head. Unfortunately, the secondary bullet whizzed past him and shot right through the secretary’s desk, killing the last board member. With an agitated growl, Wesker stepped out from cover and snatched a pair of binoculars from an approaching agent, asking him a series of panicked and stupid questions. Which he chose to ignore.

“Sir! What the fuck is going on!? Who the-“

“Save your questions for someone who cares to hear them and get your men over to that building now!” barked the less than amused spy as he raised the binoculars to his eyes.

After adjusting the lens, he could see the outline of a prone figure glancing down the barrel of a high calibre rifle. The figure looked up from their scope towards him, then looked through it once more. They were too far away for him to see exactly what they were doing but after a few seconds, the shadowy figure looked up once more… and waved. **_Literally waved_** before quickly jumping to their feet, disassembled the tripod and disappeared without a trace.

 

Wesker growled as he lowered his binoculars “Oh you will pay for that…”

 


	4. Lost and Found

_Wesker’s p.o.v_

 

The agent was currently examining the faint scratches indicative of a tripod having been moved or adjusted on the spot, facing the Prometheus tech business complex across the street. He aimed his hands from his squatting position as though he were aiming down the barrel of a rifle, taking note of just how much the wind was shifting his line of sight. Behind him, worked the other operatives sweeping the roof for any clues, having only found the white, chalk outline of a bird perched atop a dead branch. Wesker had taken a photo of the effigy and was currently awaiting the analysis from Umbrella Intelligence Division while he oversaw the investigation. It would appear, that the assassin was being a little more cautious with leaving any other evidence behind. They couldn’t even find the shell casings.

Wesker stood and folded his arms as he calculated the distance and wind resistance along with everything else necessary to pull off a shot from this far away… even humidity effects the trajectory at this distance and he had to admit… She, for he is quite certain this is his assassin, is an excellent shot. As if right on que, his phone rang so he tapped the Bluetooth earpiece to answer the device as he turned to survey the crime scene.

 

“Wesker.” He answered with his professional tone.

An emotionally detached male voice responded, cutting right to the chase. “We have the information you requested.”

“Excellent.” He stepped away from the ledge and eyed the effigy traced into the ground as he spoke. “Tell me what is significant about this bird.”

“It is the signature of an assassin, code named Raven, whom had become activated on December 15th, 1998 with the confirmed assassination of Umbrella CEO Jeremy Bridgers. His throat had been slashed by an unknown assailant within the confines of his own home, leaving the bloodied effigy of the crow or raven, perched upon a dead tree branch.”

Wesker remembered this incident. He was not directly involved with the investigation for it had been assigned to another U.I.D. agent. But he did recollect the story. It was a bloodied mess, so much so it was mistaken for a frenzy killing, indicative of extreme rage. “How does one contact this assassin?”

“Apparently, this ‘Raven’ contacts you. According to those who have hired her services within the corporate sector, she calls them with top secret information one can only retrieve from their secured files and blackmails them into hiring her… Or she would sell their information to their rival company. She has been known to work for Omni Pharmaceuticals, Tricell, and the Russian mafia.”

“The Russian Mafia?” Asked Wesker, feeling that was a tad out of place with her current M.O.

“You’d be surprised how far their reach is. They’ve even been so bold as to offer protection to some of our covert firms.”

_‘Ah… a rather clever place to start.’_ Mused the agent to himself.

Wesker couldn’t help but smirk at how manipulative this ‘Raven’ appeared to be for using people’s paranoia and greed. Retrieving such sensitive information required intellect and skill. He had use for one such as her. In fact, if he could secure her services he could finally put his own plans into motion, breaking away from Umbrella and from Spencer. “Her last confirmed kill was Robert Williams, a high ranking official from the Tricell corporation. I want you to identify all known associates and rivals, be it personal or professional, and upload them to my system.”

“Copy that sir.”

 

The specialist hung up without another word, leaving Wesker to his thoughts as he began to incorporate the use of an assassin with his plans. Before he can utilize her, he must test her combat capabilities against B.O.Ws. Many of his future targets will be in underground facilities and can potentially become Biohazard zones. It would be a complete, utter, waste of time and resources to enlist a potential operative, only to have them die on their first mission out. He did not have the kind of patience required to separate the truly capable from the weak… and he would prefer not to rely solely on operative Ada Wong. He did not trust her. Or anyone for that matter.

 

_Raven’s p.o.v._

 

**_~…Somewhere in New York’s Forest Preserve, three days later…~_ **

The quiet hiss of a silenced desert eagle hand gun was quickly drowned out by the clang of a tin can being hit dead centre; leaving the remining six cans on either side of it undisturbed atop a fallen log as it flew from its perch. The clattering sound of tin hitting the bark of another tree was soon drowned out by a very loud “FUCK!!!” and a painful growl. Raven was now squatting in her firing position, nursing her right wrist with the recently fired gun before her feet. She was dressed in her usual attire of navy blue jeans, black singlet and brown female combat boots but this time she had her hair tied back into a tight pony tail. She wore the cap she had worn at the coffee shop but it had been twisted backwards to allow her a full view of the woodlands surrounding her. Wouldn’t pay to be snuck up on now, would it?

The hammer recoil of her weapons still hurt her previously damaged wrist but not as much as it had done before. She no longer needed a brace but she did need to keep it strapped up to reduce the whiplash from heavy calibre rounds. For now, she would need to use her left hand as her primary gun hand, like she did for the Prometheus hit. With her suspicions confirmed, Raven stood and approached her duffle bag to fish out what was required to strap up her wrist. Once tight and secured, she stood quickly and shot the remaining cans within ten seconds… and tisked for taking too long. She walked towards the now scattered cans and bent to pick up three of them at once. Her mobile rang as she had them bundled and took her time to place them back onto the log before whipping it out of the back of her pants.

 

She answered her phone as she stooped to assemble the rest of the cans, speaking with her usual professional tone. “Raven.”

“Good afternoon miss Raven. We have seen that you are back in town and are very interested in hiring your services.” It was her previous client. This made her ignore her target practice and scan the area.

“I believe I instructed you not to call me again. Goodbye Mr. Isaacs.” Since Raven has always been adamant about not using names, revealing that she knows her client’s name, should be enough to scare him half to death.

Just as she was about to hang up he panicked. “No wait please! I know we breeched the terms of agreement for your employ but we have found that your proficiency rating is unapparelled. To make up for this grievance, we are prepared to offer you a high-risk contract and pay you handsomely for it.”

Raven knew she should hang up. She does not forgive. For anything, no matter how small it may seem. For efficiency sake alone she should hang up. But she was curious… and running low on finances. After a deliberately long pause she asked “Who’s the mark?”

“I cannot tell you unless you agree to complete the hit.” Breathed Mr. Isaacs. He sounded slightly out of breath. The pitch of his voice was higher than it should be. Interesting.

“I will not accept until I know who the intended target is meant to be.” Answered Raven with a cold, disinterested tone. She really didn’t care if she got this job or not. “Consider it a new term for my employment due to the previous failure to comply on your part. This is a one-time offer however. If I refuse this contract and you contact me a third time… I will find you… and I will kill you. Will you comply with this term of agreement?”

She heard an audible gulp on his end of the line and smiled rather cruelly. She loved scaring these corporate bastards who think they rule the world. “Y-Yes… I agree. The target is Nikolai Zinoviev. Are you familiar with this man?”

 

Raven’s world ground to a halt. She knew the Silver Wolf… She knew him well. He didn’t know her but that’s his problem. She had been looking for him… ever since that fateful day that changed everything. Nikolai…. Is on her personal hit list. In fact, his name is just below Oswald E. Spencer and Albert Wesker. She **_MUST_** have this hit.

 

Mr. Isaacs’ voice cracked over the line “A-Are you still there?” causing the assassin to raise an eyebrow. This man was afraid.

Raven resumed her cold tone and chose her words carefully. “Yes… I am still here, and I am familiar with the UBCS operative.”

“How did you?... never mind… Well… are you interested then? Will you take the contract?” asked her client, doing his best to hide his fear… which only made him sound desperate.

“Perhaps.” She answered, sounding like she was going to dismiss this no matter what he said. “That very much depends.”

“On what?” He asked, sounding confused.

“Hmmm…. You sound nervous Mr. Isaacs. That makes me uncomfortable. It gives me a strange idea that this may be some kind of trap. You wouldn’t be so foolish as to try and trap me, now would you?” Cooed Raven in a mocking tone.

“No! No don’t be ridiculous! I had no idea you were so paranoid! Huh… Maybe you’re not the right person for the job.” He tried to sound cool but the assassin could still hear the terror in his voice.

“Perhaps you are right. But that does nothing to disguise the stress in your voice. So, I must assume this call is being traced and I must disappear once more. Good day Mr. Isaacs.” Rachel merely moved the phone away from her face, not really intending to hang up just yet.

“No NO! Dammit!! Listen!! Yes I’m nervous! But it’s not what you think. Nikolai is onto me and if you don’t kill him I’m a dead man for sure ok!? There!! Now you know!”

_‘Ah… so this is a personal motive for you.’_ Raven paused again before answering the freaked-out client. “Very well. I accept the contract. Leave the Intel at the designated drop site.”

“Thank you…” He sighed with relief before speaking again. “This needs to be done as quickly as possible. Be as messy as you like. No need to be clean about this.”

“Understood.” Raven hung up and returned her phone to the back of her pants. She couldn’t help but feel that something was very wrong with this contract… but she also figured she could handle anything thrown her way.

 

**_~… Penn Station. Manhattan. Two hours later… ~_ **

 

The famous New York traffic had proven to be too much of a pain for Raven to tolerate so she opted to walk to the station. She also deliberately took her time, ensuring that no one had followed her or appeared to be waiting for her. The assassin also took her time to surveillance the exterior entrance for the main hub before casually entering the station. There was no real cause for her paranoia other than she liked to be cautious. It is indeed what has kept her alive since she began her career as a freelance assassin.

She didn’t really care for the exquisite design of the stations architecture, nor did she care for interacting with the denizens currently making their way to their appointed trains, all in a hurry and far too busy to pay attention to her. Still she kept her cap on and her head down to avoid being picked up on the clunky, obvious security cameras, all the while maintaining a casual pace, squeezing past people rather than shoulder barging through them like she **SO** desperately wanted to. The never-ending sea of people made her feel a little claustrophobic. Raven couldn’t help but notice how the populace seemed to wonder about aimlessly, on auto piolet, the constant humming of so many people talking over each other, overlapping so much that they sounded like wordless moans.

 

_‘Like Zombies…’_ She mused to herself. _‘They’re behaving like zombies.’_

With a scoff of disgust, the assassin made her way to the storage compartments, temporarily assigned to whoever could afford them and wielded the designated key. She approached the lockers while fishing out the key for locker number 327 and stopped when she spotted something out of place in the corner of her eye. A well-dressed man with a rather stoic expression appeared to be watching her closely. When she focused on him, he murmured something into the cuff of his navy blue sleeve, causing three other similarly dressed men to emerge from the crowd. They appeared to be spooks. Or people of that calibre… and they also seemed to know the significance of this locker.

Raven scanned the crowd, searching for a quick exit but found she had been boxed in by the approaching agents. There were also at least two more targets within the crowd, making a total of six dead men walking as far as she was concerned. What could be problematic is the oblivious crowd that surrounded them. Too many human shields for this to go down smoothly. Honestly, Raven could not be bothered with trying to talk her way out of this. She highly doubted it would work for they were reaching into their jackets to undoubtedly grab their guns.

She put her key back into her back pocket and quickly whipped out her desert eagle, that had been tucked safely down the back of her pants, and fired a shot dead centre at the closest agent to her. This caused an eruption of panicked screams as the crowd ducked and ran in multiple directions, slamming into each other and the other agents as they struggled to aim their weapons at her. Raven used the startled crowd to her advantage, ducking and merging with them, as though she were their shadow, deliberately shooting the ground to make people run towards the remaining agents out of fear and reflex.

The agents fired in the direction of the shots, wounding and killing innocent civilians in a blind attempt to shoot the assassin but she had already moved from that point. She dove out of the dispersing crowd with her feet first, seemingly missing the agents head as she flew past him but she caught his chin and the base of his skull within her hands. She used the momentum of her dive to drag and guide the agent face first into the corner of a square potted plant, containing a fern of all things. The impact had caved in his face, smashing the base of the plant and killing him instantly as she released her grip and skidded along the floor.

The remaining agents fired at her exposed position, forcing Raven to quickly get back to her feet and defensive rolled behind a row of benches, barely missing a ricochet that skimmed past her leg. This was not good cover so she quickly aimed over the top of the bench and fired at the agents, forcing them to take cover. The crowd had made themselves scarce now so it was only her and them…. It also meant the cops would be there soon so she really didn’t have long to play.

The assassin quickly sprinted to the escalators leading to the underground subway, vaulting over the ledges and laid prone between two conveyer belts. She aimed her gun and panted as quietly as she could, waiting for the agents to catch up with her. As soon as one hurried head popped up into her field of vison, she fired off a shot and got him right between the eyes. She pounced onto her feet and charged at the three agents currently skidding to a halt on reflex at the sight of their comrade’s head exploding in front of them, delivering a leaping kick into the chest of one while shooting the face of another.

Raven flipped and rolled forward to dodge the returning fire of the agent on her right, using the edge of the escalator as cover before taking aim and firing whilst still upside down. With a spatter of blood, he collapsed onto the belt, leaning over the side as he was dragged further down into the subway. The final agent was trying to get onto his feet while taking aim at Raven but she twisted onto her stomach and shot him in the shoulder, causing him to fall back down with an agonising howl. She stood and walked, almost casually towards the wounded agent, aiming her gun with one hand while adjusting her hat with the other. Since her pony tail was coming out of the back of her cap, where the adjustment strap provided a gap, it kept her cap from falling off during the flips and turns… However, it had come loose and needed to be straightened on her brow.

The agent reached for his gun with his opposite hand but a firm, merciless stomp for Raven’s combat boot kept his hand pinned to the ground. He yelled as he felt his bones crack and struggled to get his hand back as she ground it into the ground. He looked up to see a sadistic smirk on the smallest portion of her visible face and paled at the thought of just what she might do to him. Raven released his hand in favour of kicking him onto his back, stomping onto his wounded shoulder to let him know she meant business. He yelped with the hit and writhed on the ground but made no move to fight back of to raise from the floor.

 

With her gun still trained at the fallen agent, Raven spoke calmly, coldly… so cold that one would never know that she had just been in a fight and almost had her face blown off twice. “I will only ask you once… Who sent you?”

The agent stared at the barrel of her gun, then tried to look past the shadow on her face that obscured her eyes. He kept his voice steady, trying to mask his pain and fear. “Isaacs. It was Isaacs.”

“The drop?” She asked, leaving it open for him to fill in any gaps on his own.

“A set up… There is no drop.” He breathed shakily, obviously wanting to put pressure on his wound but didn’t dare move.

The assassin paused for a moment, displaying no emotion as she processed the information. Isaacs did not strike her as the kind of guy to double cross someone that can kill him. You need a spine for that and she was fairly certain he didn’t have one. She tilted her face slightly at the fallen agent and asked “why?”

“I don’t know…” He winced, expecting a hit and from the pain. “I’m just following orders.” He stared at her, waiting for her to do something... anything.

 

Raven surmised he was telling the truth. Strange how loyalty to one’s employer goes out the window when you face your own death. She shot him without warning and made her way deeper into the subway system, stepping over the mangled corpse of the agent that had been dragged down here earlier and dropped onto the tracks. She listened out for any approaching trains and followed the tunnel complex for a maintenance exit. It would seem that she needed to pay a visit to Mr. Isaacs.

 

**_~…Omni Pharmaceuticals, that night…~_ **

Raven, now dressed in her Kevlar combat suit and armed to the teeth, was currently scaling the business complex. She used her grappling hook to pull herself past any obstacles that were far too high for her jump to on her own and stuck to the shadows like she belonged there as she continued her ascent. She reached the roof of the tall construction of steel and glass, ensuring all of her belongings were strapped on tightly before searching for a way in. Going through the front door dressed like this was out of the question and it would have been incredibly foolish to have addressed this issue in her civilian attire, so she had no choice but to pry the grating for one of the ventilation ducts off and crawl inside.

Crawling through the ventilation system in perfect silence is no easy feat and is rather time consuming but the last thing Raven wanted was to have to fight her way to Mr. Isaacs office. This would lead to unnecessary collateral damage and that was unprofessional in her opinion. She didn’t care if she had to do it, it just seemed sloppy to her. Every once in a while, she wold come across the grating that allowed access into a different room. She looked down and waited, quietly listening for signs of life below her. Much to her surprise, she was greeted with silence.

 

_‘Odd… Perhaps they closed earlier than I expected? If that is the case, then why are all the lights still on?’_ Raven shook her head and continues her slow crawl towards the CEO’s office, remaining hopeful that Mr. Isaac’s was still there.

 

Finally, she approached the vent she had been waiting for and gently lifted it open. The assassin paused and listened for any signs that someone to have heard her, but all she could hear was the constant hum for the office lights and from the monitor of a computer. Carefully, she crawled forward then allowed her legs to dangle slightly before lowering herself into the room. She dropped with a quiet ‘pat’ as he feet made contact with the floor and quickly scanned the area. The double doors leading to the main hub of office employees remained closed and no one else appeared to be in the room. A rather expensive looking office chair held its lone occupant, currently with his back to her, looking out the window.

Between them, laid the crowded desk, littered with paperwork but nothing to suggest it had been raided or disturbed. The name “Brendon Isaacs. CEO.” Was inscribed onto a thin wooden plaque at the front of the desk. Just in case you forgot who you were talking to. The rest of the office was quite spacious and well organised, containing rows of information waiting to be read within their shelves, tinted with the typical brown, almost burnt orange walls. There was even a stupid fern plant everyone seemed to be obsessed with these days in the far-right corner, next to the windows that never open, overlooking the city.

Raven drew a silenced Desert Eagle with her right hand and aimed it at the chair as she approached the desk. There was no sound, no movement… something was wrong. It was not in Raven’s nature to taunt or make some huge speech to someone she intends to kill… not unless she really wanted to fuck with them first but that kinda sociopathic level of communication was reserved for her personal Umbrella Corporation hits only. Instead, she silently moved around the desk, keeping her eyes trained on the chair until Isaacs’ body came into view.

Now that she was standing in front of him, she could see an awful lot of blood, staining his pristinely bleached white shirt and pooled upon the floor. The flow had ceased and the substance had begun to coagulate but he had not been dead for long enough for his blood to turn brown. His chin was currently digging into his chest so Raven used her free gloved hand to grip his dirty blonde hair and lifted his head enough to see his face. The skin was a sickening grey, his eyes were pale… almost white… That should not happen, not so soon… from her reasoning, he had only been dead for an hour, maybe two… but the most noticeable factor was his jaw had been blown off, leaving it hanging from its left socket, exposing his tongue, making it look longer than one would expect.

Powder burns were on his right cheek, suggesting that whoever shot him, had been right next to him. She lowered his head and looked into his lap. His hands appeared to be holding something. Never letting go of her own gun, Raven used her left hand to pry open his right, finding a hands-free radio with an ear piece clutched tightly. She pulled it from his grasp and placed it on the desk. Now she pried open his left hand to find a crumbled piece of paper, stained with blood. She had to holster her weapon in order to open the note.

 

The blood made it difficult to read but she immediately recognised the handwriting “Missed me.”

 

It was her note. She left it for one person and sure enough he got it. _‘Oh… shit.’_

 

Suddenly, an alarm blared seemingly from everywhere at once, causing Raven to wince, drop her note and aim both of her guns in every direction as she scanned the room once more. White emergency shutters slammed into the ground, making the glass unreachable and impenetrable before the lights went out. In the pitch, black darkness, the assassin crouched to the ground, keeping her guns ready for anything as the emergency lights came on. Their dull, low whatt globes provided a poor light, casting shadows throughout the room.

A heavy thud caused her to spin on her heels, aiming her guns at the corpse of Mr. Isaacs. She watched him closely before lowering her arms, releasing a small, gentle sigh. She believed she must have in-avertedly knocked the chair at some point when the lights went out, causing him to fall… That was… until he began to move. Her goggles prevented the world from seeing her eyes widen in shock. Her mask prevented the world from seeing her jaw drop in horror… Her mind catapulted to the events of two years ago, slamming her into a tempest of complete. And utter. Hatred.

The corpse moaned as it reached towards her, his hand outstretched as though he were begging for her help before collapsing into the ground. He crawled along his belly, inching closer to the frozen assassin, bit by bit until he grabbed her boot. Her body shook but not from fear as she raised her gun over her shoulder before ramming the butt of her gun at the ridge of his nose. Forced knocked him onto his back, but the undead Isaacs began to lift his torso from the ground. At this point, Raven had climbed onto her feet and kicked the zombie onto its back again.

It fumbled to grab her foot and bite her as she raised her knee and stomped its head. This caused the creature grunt in protest, stunning it temporarily as she brought her foot down again. And again. Screaming with rage as she stomped on it repeatedly until its brains was all over the once polished floor. Raven panted, staring at Isaacs remains, trying to get the rage back into its bottle as she paced back and forth from behind the desk. After a few moments she was calm again, kicking the corpse out of her way so she could pull the office chair up and take a seat.

Raven tapped on the keyboard for Isaacs computer, but it would appear that the emergency power was for the lights and locks only. Just as she stood with an agitated sigh, the radio sitting on the desk right in front of her began to beep. Cautiously, the assassin took the ear piece and lifted her mask just enough so she could drill it into her ear, never allowing the fabric to truly leave her face. Once it was in, she straightened her mask and switched the radio on.

 

“Hello?” She asked, her voice was colder than ice for she was not in a good mood after that encounter with a zombie.

“Ah, Miss Raven. How nice to hear your voice again.” Answered Wesker with a charming, yet condescending tone.

Raven’s jaw dropped for the second time that day. ‘ _Now it all makes sense. Somehow Wesker figured out who hired me for the Williams hit and set up a trap… or traps, should I say? What’s worse is that he knows my code name. What else does he know?’_

She blinked before responding with a little more aggression than she intended. “Wesker. What the hell do you want?”

“Hm. That’s quite the temper you have my dear.” He cooed, further agitating the woman.

Raven scoffed as she walked towards the double doors, testing the handles to see if they’re locked. “Besides stating the obvious, was there something you wanted to say Mr Wesker?”

He chose to ignore her minor stab and spoke with a professional tone. “Straight to the point. Good. You have potential Miss Raven and I find myself in need of your services.”

With a slight jiggle of the handles, Raven found the doors were locked down tight and turned to eye the air duct she crawled through to get there in the first place. “Now why the fuck would I want to work for an Umbrella lackey such as yourself?”

“Not only can I compensate you financially and with better accommodation than you have been able to attain thus far, I can provide you with what you seek.”

Raven finally spied the Camera that had followed her every move and stood to stare it down… to stare him down while she spoke. “And that is?”

“Don’t play coy with me my dear, we are both smarter than that.”

“You can give me the Silver Wolf?”

 “That is not the correct question to ask. What you should be asking, is what else can I provide for you?”

“Alright. What else can you provide for me?”

“I can give you access to surveillance, security codes, classified locations, everything you would need to know for the annihilation of Umbrella and its personal…” He paused briefly before continuing, making his proposition sound perfect, tantalising, and oh so tempting. “I can give you Spencer, Raven.”

 

Raven knew a con when she heard one. But she also knew that this would undoubtedly be her best chance at receiving the intel she needed to assassinate the son of a bitch that started it all. She ALSO knew that it would be unwise to decline a deal with the Devil, especially when the Devil made it perfectly clear that he already knew where her base was, or so he implied by his remark about accommodations, and he knows her code name. She will not be able to hide from him for long. A deal like this… will come at a high price.

 

“And what exactly do you want from me?” She asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

He hummed, undoubtedly smirking on the other end of her radio before speaking with a teasing purr. “Not so fast my dear. First, you must pass a little test.”

“Test?” She asked, turning at the corpse of Mr Isaacs, not liking the sound of it.

“Oh yes. Consider it a… try out if you will. If you succeed, then we can negotiate the terms of your employment.”

She didn’t need to ask what would happen if she failed. “And what do I need to do, to prove my worth?”

“Survive.”

 

The line went dead and all of the emergency locks were released at once. The shutters did not budge however so Raven had no choice but to either push forward through the double doors, or try to climb out through the vents. She did not like, how Wesker said **_‘survive’_** for she got the feeling Mr Isaacs was not an isolated case. He looked and moved just like the people of Raccoon City… Whatever they had, Whatever it is that Umbrella made, that fucked up an entire city, is undoubtedly in this building… survival will be difficult. But not impossible.


	5. Survival of the Fittest

  _Raven’s pov_

 

Raven had absolutely no intention of going through those doors. Screw playing this game by Wesker’s rules. So, she opted to go back through the vent she came from. With a well stretched jump, she caught the edge of the vent opening and pulled herself inside. She began her slightly claustrophobic crawl through the rectangular prism only to pause when she swore she could have heard something. The vent was rather dark so she tilted her head to listen carefully to the approaching sound.

It was a faint tapping sound at first, like pins dropping onto a tiled floor… no it was more like the chipping sound a dog’s claws against a tiled floor. Point being that something sharp was tapping against the metallic surface within the vent and it was heading right for her. She managed to bend her arm just enough to reach the visor she wore over her eyes and touched the button hidden on the side of the lens. The night vison crackled into view to reveal something that walked straight out of a nightmare.

A creature with no skin and compacted exposed muscles stretching, contracting, coated with some kind of a slick moisture inched its way towards her. It’s large clawed hands reaching out to dig into the vent and pull itself towards her, followed by a maw of razor sharp teeth. It had no eyes, at least not in the sense Raven was accustomed to seeing. Instead of where the eyes should be it appeared to have its brain… like someone turned some poor creature inside out. Its teeth opened to reveal a very long tongue that whipped out and struck the side of the vent merely an inch from Raven’s nose, denting the metal on impact.

_‘SHIT!’_ The assassin flinched and crawled backwards as fast as she could, never taking her eyes off the creature that was now barrelling towards her. It snarled as it shot its tongue out towards her again but there was suddenly nothing beneath her hands and knees, so Raven fell back into Isaac’s office. With a yelp of pain, Raven landed heavily on her knees and defence rolled forward, barely avoiding the collapsing vent. Plaster from the ceiling pelted her back as she jumped onto her feet and spun to see the creature crash into the ground. It writhed on its back for a millisecond before twisting onto its feet, screeching with rage as it searched for its prey.

At this point, the assassin had drawn both of her desert Eagles and fired at the creature’s exposed brain. Both bullets penetrated its flesh and earned a howl of pain as it was knocked back on impact. This did not kill the creature. Merely pissed it off. It shrieked loudly as it raised its right primary claw and leapt towards her. The assassin dashed to her left and ducked as the creature adjusted its swipe, then pivoted as she delivered a heel kick to its back.

A solid smack could be heard when her steel capped boot made impact with its spine before it crashed into Isaac’s desk. The remaining utensils and paperwork flew in all directions at the surface collapsed under its weight, causing the defective computer to smash into pieces. Not waiting for the creature to get up, Raven unloaded five more bullets directly into its brain. Shredding the brain matter into ribbons before the creature laid still with a final, desperate hiss.

 

With a sigh, Raven lowered her arms and holstered her weapons before massaging her right wrist. It hurt like hell from the recoil but she really couldn’t do much about that. _‘Seven bullets down. Four left per clip plus two more clips in my ammo belt...’_ She hummed as she absently switched off her night vision, slightly blinded by the dull emergency lights. Had they been on full blast, she would have been blind for sure. Then she’d be dead.

Raven continued her mental checklist as she reached behind her head to whip out her sword. It felt so wrong not having its sister blade… but there was no way in hell she could get it repaired without being tracked by Wesker. He has turned out to be quite… resourceful… to have learned so much so soon was a little unnerving. Yet it was also welcomed… The people she had worked with and annihilated before this case had been dreadfully simple. So easy to outwit and manipulate into doing exactly what she wanted them to do. Perhaps this Wesker person, could provide her with more of a challenge.

She used the tip of her blade to poke the creature, testing for any nerve centres that she could use in the future. Its claws twitched when she stabbed its ‘elbow’ and its entire torso spasmed when she stabbed the centre of its chest. Once satisfied that she had learned all she could at this point in time, for this was not a safe environment to stare at something for too long, the assassin cast a glance at the now collapsed ventilation shaft currently protruding from the roof. There was no way she could climb back inside now… not to mention that she did not like the idea of possibly bumping into another one of those… things… with so little room to move.

Resigned with having to play this game by Wesker’s rules after all, Raven begrudgingly made her way towards the double doors that lead to the ‘secretary pool’. She cast a glance at the camera above her that had followed her every move and flipped it the bird before tightening her grip on her sword. The bastard probably thought that was funny, seeing her fall out of the vent like that and that really pissed her off. Raven decided to use her blade for now for she didn’t know what she was up against and wanted to save her bullets for when she truly needed them. Silently, she reached out with her left hand and gently turned the handle, opening the door just a crack to take a peek. Seeing that the coast was clear, she opened the door just wide enough for her to slip inside, then closed it behind her.

 

_Wesker’s pov_

 

**_~Underground Control Room~_ **

 

Wesker waited patiently to see what this woman would do. He was curious… after all, it’s not every day an adversary can keep their wits about them when he’s rattled their cage. And rattled them he did. He knew she would be alarmed to his hint towards knowing her current patterns, accommodation and her codename. Yet, she remained professional and even attempted to bait him, testing his patience and his professional conduct. He stared at the multitude of monitors at his disposal, adjusting a joystick to zoom in on the assassin while they spoke together.

The light from the screens reflected on the lens of his glasses and cast an eerie glow throughout the rather spacious concrete room. Rows upon rows of security footage and files lined the walls on the shelves behind him, all containing footage he can use for his own means, coordinates to locations and persons of interest. He was dressed in his more formal attire, the same one he wore that day at the coffee shop, sitting in a comfortable leather office chair. It seemed… appropriate for the occasion. It is a job interview after all.

Wesker leaned forward and rested his elbows on the control panel, careful not to press any switches or keyboards as he laced his fingers together, resting them under the tip of his nose, pressed against his lips. He stared in silence as he watched the assassin climbing back into the vent, avoiding the route he had provided for her, not trusting him at all. _‘Good. I would not employ someone who would trust others easily.’_ He mused to himself as he scanned the other monitors, taking note of what was waiting for her at every corner before returning his attention to Isaac’s office. He knew there was a B.O.W. nicknamed as “Licker” crawling around in the vents. He had released multiple subjects into the ventilation system to ensure she was forced to navigate the building instead of taking the easy way out.

This is an evaluation for her resilience. Not her intellect. Though that too, will be put to the test here.

He smirked when she fell out of the vent and watched with keen interest as she fought the B.O.W. Her lack of fear piqued his curiosity further. Not once, did she try to flee. Most people, regardless of their line of work, would at the very least be disturbed by the sight of such a creature. Yet she was not. That meant she has had dealings with this B.O.W. before, suffers from some form of a disassociation disorder such as Atarexia, or apparently has nerves of steel. Further research is required to answer this line of inquiry.

He also took note of her battle stance and which particular discipline her kick belonged to. It was different from the movement he had witnessed during their previous encounters. It would appear that she is a student of multiple disciplines of the martial arts. How many, remained to be seen. What also caught his attention was how she took the time to analyse the subject once she had defeated it. This was no mere enforcer whom specialised in the cessation of any and all lifeforms.

Wesker did not react to the assassin’s intended insult to him when she gestured a profanity towards the camera. Instead, he made himself more comfortable in his seat so that he could continue his observations of this potential asset.

 

_Raven’s pov_

Raven moved as silent as death itself, her sword crossed against her chest in a defensive position, ready for anything. The open cubicles appeared abandoned, the faint lights barely illuminating their messy stations. Phones hung off the hook and all electrical appliances remained offline, creating quite the contrast to how this place would ordinarily look. A faint, scraping sound could be heard in the distance, followed by something being dragged against carpet. The sound was getting closer, adding the sound of paper being crinkled beneath something heavy. The assassin felt her hair stand on end as her goosebumps rose, giving her the sense of impending doom. Something… was very wrong with this place.

Suspecting more cases like Mr Isaac’s, Raven did her best to swallow the anger back down into the pit of her belly. Now was not the time to fly off the handle. Yet, as soon as the noise was close enough to reveal its source… her sense of calm flew out the window. A partially rotted, shambling corpse was shuffling its way towards her. Its effort to move increased when it caught sight of her.

The corpse was once a man, his hair having fallen out in great clumps of patches along with several chunks of his flesh. Some of his lips were missing, revealing a never-ending snarl as he groaned at her, head lopped slightly to the side. He was soon flanked by two other zombies, all dressed in office attire, undoubtedly the people that used to work here, all having glazed over eyes, all moaning as they shuffled closer to the stationary assassin.

Raven had in avertedly taken a step back, bumping her hip into the edge of a table. Something suddenly grabbed her shoulders and she quickly whipped her blade over her head, smacking whatever grabbed her hard enough to make it release her. She turned to see yet another zombie, leaning back as though it were in a trance from the hit before standing upright again. Without hesitation, Raven swung her blade to slash its head clean off. It dropped like a ton of bricks as its head tumbled to the side.

She turned to see even more zombies were scrambling towards her now, moving faster than usual as they grew closer. The anger she did not want to release fuelled her veins as she sprang into action. With a yell of pure hatred, Raven delivered a leaping roundhouse kick, knocking the first zombie to the ground as she hacked off the leg of another. She hopped back a step to remain out of reach of a collapsing zombie that was tripping over the one that just lost its leg and was stabbed through the back of its head, her blade protruding through its eye socket with the tip of her blade embedded into the ground.

With her blade temporarily stuck in the fallen zombie’s head, Raven had no choice but to spin and lower herself out of another zombie’s reach, leaving her blade where it was to avoid injury. From a squatted position, she whipped out one of her guns and fired twice into its head as it fell towards her. It hit the ground just before her feet and she quickly shot the zombie she had knocked to the ground in the first place and used her last bullet in the chamber for the legless zombie that had been crawling towards her throughout the entire fight.

More zombies appeared out of the woodwork, so’s to speak, reminding Raven that there are probably over a few hundred employees in this office complex and she did NOT have enough bullets to kill them all. The aim of this game is to survive. Not kill them all. Despite how badly she wanted to do just that. She hated zombies. Hated them so much it made it difficult to focus. With a flick of her wrist, she ejected her now empty clip and reloaded with a fresh one. She then holstered her gun and ripped her sword from the zombies head with a grunt before vaulting onto a nearby desk.

Using her free hand, Raven grabbed the grappling hook she kept strapped to her thigh and aimed it towards the centre of the roof. She fired as she hacked at a zombie that got too close, taking its hand with a spray of blood while the hook burst through the plaster. She activated the device as she leapt forward, booting another zombie as she swung over their heads, towards a rear door. Naturally, she was too heavy for the plaster to hold her weight, so she dropped onto another desk and rolled through a cubicle wall. She had never been so grateful for such a flimsy design before.

She crashed onto the ground with a heavy thud and rolled onto her feet as though she had a spring in her hip. The assassin ran for the exit while retracting the hook for her device without looking back. She threw her shoulder into the door and slammed right into another zombie, knocking it to the ground as she turned her fall into a controlled roll. She didn’t bother to finish it off. Instead she raised her blade to stab another zombie in front of her, then decapitated a third before charging down the narrow hallway.

Dozens of undead pressed themselves against the office windows, pounding on the glass and plywood doors as she ran for the elevator. Raven didn’t bother to flinch when the glass shattered and the corpses collapsed into the hallway, now chasing her as best as their decrepit bodies allowed them to.  Instead, she skidded to a stop as soon as she reached the elevator doors and sheathed her sword so that she could slip her fingers into the crack between the doors. Despite how thin and delicate her fingers were, they were simply too big to fit inside.

Raven dared to look over her shoulder to see how close they were before reaching the side of her boot for her emergency knife. She didn’t have much time. With a growl, she whipped out her knife and jammed the tip between the elevator doors. She slammed her open palm against the hilt three times until she forced the blade in and pulled to the left to pry the doors open. Suddenly, all her weight fell to the left, almost causing her to lose her balance as the blade snapped away from the hilt with a metallic clang.

She tossed her now useless hilt towards the approaching hoard, knocking one of the closer zombies in the head, tripping a few of them over and cast a quick glance towards the emergency stairs. Something was pounding against the door. More zombies, no doubt. She was trapped with nowhere to go. The broken blade had actually opened the elevator doors just enough for her to slip her fingers through so she dug them inside and pulled with all her might.

The doors barely moved but she gave it everything she had, jerking one door violently to the left while bracing her foot against the right. She shoved her shoulder inside the elevator shaft, seeing there was no elevator, just a long drop into darkness…. But the alternative was to be devoured by these ravenous freaks. Preferring to take her chances, she shoved her torso inside the small opening she had created and fought to wriggle the rest of herself through. Multiple hands grabbed and clawed at her lower torso and leg, causing her to kick violently with a rage filled yell before falling into the black abyss.

Knowing that death was imminent, Raven flipped in mid fall, causing her body to slam into the wall, then bounced off of a steel scaffold. She braced herself to catch the next one and slipped when her grip failed her. She fell and landed on a third scaffold, wrapping her arms and legs around it so that she couldn’t fall again. She stayed like that for a moment, laying prone on her stomach, groaning from the pain and fighting to catch her breath from the near-death experience. She flinched when something whipped past her from above and made the effort to switch on her night vision just in time to see the feet of a zombie that followed her down.

She counted the seconds until it finally hit the roof of the elevator, whichever floor it was on, reminding her that she was quite a few more floors up from the ground level and had one hell of a climb ahead of her. She scanned the area and saw the maintenance ladder was on the other side of her life saving scaffold and slowly began to shimmy towards it. Her whole body ached from that fall, so maintaining her balance on such a thin surface was rather difficult. But not impossible. When she finally reached the other side, and was now standing on the ladder, she rested her forehead against a step and sighed in relief.

_‘That was close…’_ She thought to herself. She had only just begun her crusade against Umbrella. It would have been a shame to have died before she could finish what she started. They… and those like them… must pay for what they have done. With renewed vigour, Raven began her long decent down the maintenance ladder, taking care to look up and down, ensuring nothing nasty was waiting for her in the darkness. She also took note of where her source of pain was coming from. Her ribs hurt, undoubtedly cracked again, along with her shoulder and her right leg.

She paused in mid step, only just remembering that the zombies had a good grip on her and looked down to check her leg. She ran her gloved hand against the fabric and sighed with another sense of relief. The Kevlar had done its job and protected her from scratches and bites. She tapped an indentation where a zombie had actually tried to bite her calf and shuddered at the thought of becoming infected. It brought up… unpleasant memories. Her eyes narrowed and her brow crinkled at the thought of a time best left buried and resumed her decent, now seeing the roof of the elevator just a few feet below her.

That now familiar sound of something sharp tapping against metal had her look up in time to see not one, not two, but three of those things she fought in the vents coming towards her at breakneck speed. She didn’t even have time to curse as their elongated tongues shot towards her. The assassin hopped her hands and feet to the sides of the ladder and slid down so fast she figured she’d break her legs on impact, narrowly escaping their collective reach. At the last second, she gripped the sides as hard as she could in an attempt to slow her fall and slammed into the roof of the elevator with a heavy thud.

Just as she climbed onto her feet, one of the creatures landed next to her and caused the roof to cave in, taking Raven with it. Something soft broke her fall when her back hit the ground. She turned her head to see it was yet another freaken zombie, now trying to sit up and take a bite out of her. Pissed off beyond words, Raven sat up and rammed her elbow into the zombie’s nose, driving the cartilage into its brain, killing it instantly before backwards rolling into the wall, narrowing escaping a swipe from the creature’s clawed hand.

She hopped to her feet and whipped out her guns, firing away as she jumped again, performing a cartwheel in mid-air to dodge another swipe, hitting it dead centre in the chest, causing it to spazim uncontrollably when she landed. At point blank range she shot its brains out, emptying the clip of one gun and leaving twelve bullets in the other. She holstered one gun and grabbed her grappling hook as the other two creatures dropped into the elevator, one of them nearly landed on her. The hook latched onto something above her and she activated the device, pulling herself above the derelict elevator and shot out the central hub of cables as she past them.

The weight of the two creatures combine with the now flimsy contraption simply could not hold and snapped away with a mighty CRACK. Raven stopped her grappling hook from pulling her any higher and watched as the elevator plummeted the last few floors down, causing dust to fall from above her when it made contact with the ground. She hung there for a moment, swinging slightly as she holstered her other gun and pulled herself up to where the hook had connected to a scaffolding bar. She disconnected it, holstered the contraption back to her thigh, shimmied her way to the maintenance ladder and resumed climbing down the blasted shaft.

Once her feet touched the now severely dented and demented elevator, Raven carefully made her way around the metallic nightmare and reached the outer elevator doors. There was a latch in the lower left corner, designed for maintenance users and pulled it to release the lock. The doors almost glided open, requiring little effort as she opened it just a crack. With the busted elevator where it is, she was stuck between the ground and first floor. There wasn’t much wriggle room to get to either one, but the ground floor was where she needed to go. Besides, there were zombies milling about the first floor.  Lot of zombies.

There were a few on the ground floor but they seemed to be just standing there, looking up at something above them or staring dead ahead. Thankfully, luck was back on her side and none of them were close to or staring at the elevator. Silently, so not to attract the attention of the zombies above and below her, Raven pried open the doors further and eased her way through the small gap feet first, praying that her sword would not get stuck on the damn thing. She twisted her hips while gripping onto the floor so she could wriggle her sword through but it made a noise by tapping against the surrounding debris. The zombies on the first floor all turned and shambled their way towards her. She quickly threw herself through the gap and accidently kicked/landed on a zombie that should not have been so close.

Raven was now standing on it and quickly switched off her night vision so that she wouldn’t be blinded by the emergency lights to see that it’s flesh was red! Its nails were like claws and its teeth were razor sharp. _‘shit!.... THESE FUCKERS CAN RUN!’_ Oh yes. She had seen these before and knew better than to hesitate around them. She flipped off of it before it could gather itself enough to attack her and whipped out her desert eagle to shoot it in the head. This grabbed the attention of the remaining four zombies she had spotted before, snarling and growling as they charged at her. More appeared around the corners, all sprinting towards her, far too many for her limited ammunition.

With a growl of her own she aimed her gun and quickly shot the first twelve that came at her, one shot, one kill, her aim was incredibly accurate. With her ammunition depleted she ejected the clip and holstered the weapon in mid kick, stopping another crimson-head in its tracks before whipping out her sword. She spun, decapitating one on her left then followed through with another spin, using her opposite leg to knock the ground out from beneath another one. She stomped on this one while it was down, crushing its skull as she hacked the arms off another one. It still tried to bite her with no arms but she quickly kicked its jaw, then followed through with a high kick to its chest, forcing it to slam into three more zombies on the way down.

Raven caught another charging zombie as she side stepped away and used its own momentum to throw its head into a nearby desk. She span and revers stabbed another zombie then turned to decapitate it before cleanly stabbing another under its jaw, penetrating its brain before pulling her weapon free, still holding it in its reverse grip. She quickly stabbed the remaining two zombies that were knocked down by the armless one and kicked a final zombie so hard that it broke its neck before it hit the ground.

The assassin was overcome with an eerie sense of calm as she surveyed the room of carnage before her. At least twenty corpses were strewn about her feet. Dark, coagulated blood was everywhere. The only sound to be heard was the distant moans of the undead on the floors above her. She flicked her blade and wiped the remaining blood off of it on the shirt of a relatively clean zombie corpse, then sheathed it in perfect silence. She checked her ammo belt and found she had miscounted during her fight against the creatures with the long tongues. She was indeed, out of ammo. It was a good thing that she was finally at the exit.

Without further distraction, Raven stepped over the bodies of the undead and walked, rather casually to the front doors.

_-Beep Beeeeeep-_

_-Beep_

_-Beep_

_-Beep_

The assassin stopped and turned her head to the right at the sound of something beeping. She had that horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach as she crept towards the source of the sound. Attached to a pillar close to the front doors was a clump of plastic explosives big enough to level a city block! That was probably an exaggeration but it was safe to say that the underground parking lot and the basement levels would probably be rigged with more. There was no obvious timer and Raven didn’t waste time trying to find it. She spun on her heel and bolted out the door.

Raven sprinted as fast as she could, narrowly missing getting hit with oncoming traffic, but before she could get very far she was deafened with an incredible **BOOM!** Then she was launched by the invisible shockwave that slammed her into the windshield of a parked SUV. She dared to look behind her to see the building collapsing on itself, covering the entire street with a cloud of smoke and ash. It was an implosion… therefore there shouldn’t be too many collateral damage. And there would be no trace of the infection.

With a groan, she peeled herself off of the slightly dented SUV and flicked the broken glass off of her and she jogged further down the street, using the smoke as cover. Raven used her grappling hook once more to scale the roof of a smaller building and sat on the ledge, watching the chaos below her. She always found it odd to hear people scream. Especially if they were not hurt. And she found it amusing to watch them clamour around in a panic.

 

The radio she forgot she had suddenly beeped so she switched it on and pressed the earpiece through her mask, further into her ear, using her free hand to block her other ear as she did. “Raven.” She answered, cold as ever.

“Congratulations.” Purred Wesker in a slightly condescending tone. “You passed your little test, though it would appear that you require some form of training in dealing with Bio Organic Weapons.”

Raven glared at the street below her, pausing to centre herself so that she would not say something she might regret later. Calmly she stated “You did not mention the explosives.”

“I believe one such as yourself would come to expect a containment method for a potential outbreak.”

“what do you mean, one such as myself?” she asked, worried that he might already know her identity. If so… she was fucked.

There was a deliberate pause before Wesker answered her and he sounded so unbearably confident. “You have fought these creatures before. The lower-class B.O.W’s such as the zombies posed no threat to you, save for the hoard outside the penthouse elevator. The lickers however, almost had you.”

“So that’s what they are called.” She mused aloud, not rising to his bate. He was stating a fact. The Lickers did give her trouble. Odd that he has not dismissed her. “Was my performance satisfactory for this evaluation?”

He chuckled slightly and sounded VERY condescending. “It was a poor performance indeed. Yet. You do have potential.”

“Will the training you mentioned earlier be provided upon your employ?” she asked a slight hint of agitation in her voice.

“Of course. That is, if you are willing to work for me. You must understand what that entails.” He spoke sternly, a warning. “This… is not a contract that can be dismissed. There is no retirement, you cannot quit and return to your life. Any and all information you receive along with everything you will be exposed to is strictly confidential. Leaking any information to the competition with forfeit the contract. Your life will be terminated. Do you understand?”

Raven paused, allowing the information to sink in before speaking with her professional tone. “You have stated your terms clearly. Here are mine. You will NOT withhold information in regards to Spencer. Any delaying tactics will forfeit the contract. If you betray me in any way it will forfeit the contract and your life will be terminated. Do you understand the terms and conditions of **_my_** employment?”

She smirked as she waited for Wesker to respond. The fact that he was thinking about it meant that he took her seriously. It also meant that he did not underestimate her. When he spoke, it was professionally. “We… Have an accord. I will send you the coordinates for your new base of operations.”

With that the radio was dead and Raven’s phone beeped to signify a message. She zipped open her Kevlar suit and fished out her phone tucked safely inside. She saw the grid coordinates as plain as day from an unknown number and frowned. _‘The son of a bitch had my number this whole time…’_

 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic can have a sudden boost of updates then slow down to a crawl due to life. I never abandon a story so this WILL be finished. Reviews/comments/constructive criticism are welcome!


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